


The Madness of Lord Maduke

by scribensdracones



Category: Noblesse (Manhwa)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Canon Compliant, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Human Sacrifice, Hurt No Comfort, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Parent/Child Incest, Unrequited Lust, insert a bunch of different nsfw tags, make villains great again, no one likes Maduke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribensdracones/pseuds/scribensdracones
Summary: With the news of Muzaka still alive, the Union crumbling and the Nobles back on the move, fear gets ahold of Maduke - the Lord who got into power through treachery and scheming now fears to lose this power. This ever-growing fear and emptiness, this hunger for more... drive him further and further until there will be nothing left. The final weeks leading up to the assault on the Werewolves' territory by the Nobles.





	1. Emptiness; Unease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hello ,it is I once more. Just in case anyone wonders, everything that happens here is also canon to my other fic, 'Devil Devil'. Just saying :)

Whoever said even a bad act of sex was still good obviously never had found themselves with someone entirely incapable of catching and maintaining a man's interest. Pleasure and lust, maybe some desire, something should wash over him, though instead, he found himself slowly sinking into a state of boredom devoid of all – a part of him even felt too flaccid to get angry with her for failing to please him. Mirai's enthusiasm waned – this was not going anywhere. Not good enough to do anything, enough to not make him lose hope altogether, as though, by some miracle, he'd find his virility reignited.  
There was a good reason why he chose to have no clocks in his private chambers. Maybe, if he'd dared to cast a glance at one, he'd be appalled at how much time he'd already wasted on this. When she stopped sucking his cock and tried to pull away, he quickly caught her by the green ponytail. Ah. Practical. “I didn't tell you to stop.”  
And so she returned to her Sisyphean task of bringing her _great_ , _magnificent_ and bored Lord some comfort and pleasant distraction from the _many duties_ he usually had to tend to. Like assuring that he would stay the one in power – if it weren't for the damned 4th Elder not letting them all finish the job properly... And ah, for fuck's sake! The mere thought of the late Kravei made him lose the last spark of lust he might have had left. With a groan of annoyance, Mirai pulled away and this time, Maduke did not stop her. It was pointless, trying to get anything out of him at this point.

“Leave.” He waved his hand in annoyance and watched her leave with quick steps – this girl did not need to be told twice. Lovelessly, he forced his semi-hard manhood back in his breeches, could not stand the sight of such a failure. Even the simplest things seemed to fail, as though the shadows of problems to come took all capacity of pleasure from him.

What was supposed to be a good romp now left him feeling agitated and empty at the same time, unsatisfied in more ways than one. If his pride did not forbid him, he'd even consider calling Mirai back to finish what they had started. Or maybe ask for Urne. No harm in a little sibling rivalry. Or maybe... maybe he should even call for both of them. More is better, though he was not sure whether that worked for the amount of sex partners, too.  
Of course, these were merely hypothetical considerations – to risk calling anyone and failing again was not one he was going to run. No one should even dare doubting his force, his virility and his vitality. A bad day was one thing, but if it repeated? What would they think of him? As of now, he doubted that anyone would dare to doubt, but if this did not get better …

* * *

  Ghosts haunted these halls. Specters of those who were not welcome here – even when they were not in the room, their smell still clung to the furniture, the walls, the air was full of their lingering presence. The Lord who no longer hid his contempt for mere civilians and the Noble who had no place here. Neither were supposed to be welcome – yet one sat on their throne by right of old customs while the other pranced through these halls by the hospitality of what felt like the imposter of a Lord. Lunark could remember better days – or was it her own youth that made the past seem brighter than the present? Maduke stood so broad and tall that he cast long, dark shadows on their future. It made her fear what was to come under his reign.  
She knew that she would receive her answers down in the laboratory where the noble scientist would start her work soon enough. It took no magician to see what they were trying to achieve: Maduke knew the power of humans and how could that greedy man not resist the temptation? To do it like the humans and reach out beyond the limits of your own strength... She feared that he would not be the only one to fall for the call of the little siren he'd accepted in their home.

Though Lunark meant to head out without dallying, she still found herself not heading for the shortest route – and as thought chance willed it so, indeed she met one of the visitations in flesh. Lunark's eyebrows furrowed just slightly at the sight – one must remain neutral in stance. Though she did not approve of Ignes' presence here – this woman was still a guest of the Lord and so, she decided that a court nod was all the politeness necessary and appropriate.   
The noble's steps slowed and almost came to a complete halt. She carried a stack of old books and notes, the scent of various werewolves clung to it. Most likely the notes of their own scientist, foraged from the laboratories. H _ey, aren't you supposed to be an expert? Why consult our own research?_ A useless, begrudging thought.

  “You are the Fitfh Elder, aren't you?” A friendly smile that failed to reach crimson eyes, too wide for a place as gloomy as this. “I don't think we have been introduced.”  
“We normally don't.” Keep that conversation short – Lunark had no intentions of getting caught up with the snakes. Don't let her think, for one second, that she was a welcome guest here – she only brought calamity to the Fourth Elder and she had no doubt that she would do the same to them, too.

 "Well... now that I finally met you..." Ignes' dishonest smile widened. "Walk with me, will you? I have heard so much about you." 


	2. Time; Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh worm it's me again. I hope y'all ... 'enjoy' reading this...? Interesting to write one way or another, hah.

Ignes was perfectly capable of being pleasant – she spoke with a slight bounce that turned her words into an amiable singsong. She sounded like the chitchat of a bird that had nothing to say. Maybe she just wanted to talk to someone – there surely weren't many around who would deign to talk to someone like her. As expected, the noble offered no new insights – no. Quite contrary to what Lunark considered to be noble nature, she was simply _chatty_. A trait no one appreciated too much – but it worked in her favour. The more Ignes talked, the less she needed to talk herself.

They had just passed the western entry to the throne room when they ran into three others just around the corner – the Lord, accompanied by the warriors Juraki and Kentas. The Lord had his shoulders pulled back like a bird on display. His steps slowed as he approached the two women who merely meant to pass him by the side of the hallway without stepping in his way.  
“Going anywhere, _ladies_?” Maduke, as eldest and chiefest of them, raised his voice first, coming to a complete halt now – they had no other choice but to stop as well, now. Of course, his question did not ask for destinations but justifications – the west wing held nothing of importance to Lunark and Ignes surely should rather be somewhere in the North Wing of the castle. Neither of them were _supposed_ to be here.  
“Lunark was being so kind as to show me the way to the library and back. I needed some of the records,” Ignes spoke up first, with a stack of papers, books and other documents to support her words too. Lunark could almost see the gears in his head getting in motion, trying to decide whether he would believe that excuse or not. The library _was_ in the west wing after all...  
“Don't dally. Ignes. I will need you at lunar noon down in the laboratories. I have a _surprise_ for you.”

Without further ado, he continued his way towards the throne room – Lunark did not dare exhaling in relief. Ever since the former Lord returned... Maduke has been more than on edge. His actions were becoming increasingly difficult to predict, it seemed. She did not care to find out what he'd have done had he decided that the noble's excuse was not sufficiently convincing.  
Quietly, they continued for a few more minutes with nothing but the clicking of their heels to break the silence. These walls had ears and though neither of them had anything consequential to say, a certain unease had settled in.

They continued up to the beginning of the North Wing until Ignes finally spoke up again. “When is lunar noon?” Ah, right. Nobles were not exactly known as timekeepers and remembered a mention of Ignes being known as particularly unpunctual for human standards – which maybe made her a particularly punctual noble. For a few moments, Lunark had to consider to what human time standard lunar noon would translate tonight. “At about one.”  
A side glance revealed, that Ignes clearly could not put an actual time to 'one'. Indeed, noble timekeeping. “Make yourself a clock.” Her words were met with a chuckle.  
“Well, thanks for getting me back safely. Your directions were much appreciated.” With a dismissive gesture of her hand, she interrupted Lunark. “No need to thank me. Us girls must look out for each other, don't you agree?”

* * *

 It's been a while since he'd visited the outer station east of the castle. Well hidden, a forbidden place far away from prying eyes. If he hadn't neglected it for so long... all of this hassle would not be necessary in the first place. Spoiled brat asking for modern equipment... Her results better be worth it. With slow steps, he and Zaiga descended down into the deeper levels of the mostly abandoned research facility. They were the ones who brought her down here, centuries ago, it was only fitting that they would be the ones to take her back. The remaining subjects in this facility could be taken to the main laboratories in the castle tomorrow.  
Maduke was not exactly glad to give away his favourite toy, his greatest comfort, the one who gave him solace when nothing but blood and cracking bones could soothe his raging spirit. Willingly, she had served the old traitor Lord, unwillingly she served him just as unfailingly. Garda was stretched out on the mattress in her cell. A whole week of time for regeneration – wasn't he _generous_? Ignes should not think of him as a man who'd give her worthless scraps. One should not present a guest with leftovers, but with a feast. Seeing her like that, white skin unmarked by the tests and the torture... it made him regret giving her away like that. When the beast inside took over... No. He should not let selfish desires overshadow the greater scheme of things. How could he even think about hindering his magnificent plans like that?

Garda stirred, woken by their presence and, for just a few seconds, she looked more confused than anything, sleep still clinging to her features. Such a pretty thing... “Today's your lucky day. For how long have you been down here? Do you remember the sky?” He told her regularly of the world outside the dungeon she was kept in – about the sky, about the wind, the crunch of freshly fallen snow, the stars and the moon. What kind of a brute would just finish off and leave? Like a true gentleman he stayed to rub salt into the open wound – so she would never forget what was taken from her... and whom she had to thank for that. Hatred must be cultivated carefully to bloom into its full atrocity.  
The warrior tasked with guarding his part of the facility unlocked the door to her cell and Maduke gave is companion a slow nod, granting his permission to proceed. “I am generous. I will allow you to see the moon on our way.” Zaiga entered the cell and yanked the woman up by her ponytail.

* * *

   _Ominous_. A surprise? Surely he could not have finished refurbishing a lab for her so fast – given that he'd said that this was the best equipped they had. Most of the equipment was at least twenty years old, some of these technologies were outdated. Awful. No wonder the werewolf scientists never could contribute anything of significance at the occasional scientific conferences the Union organized. So, between excited curiosity and uneasy anxiety, she waited down in the laboratories with nothing to do but cleaning clean equipment.  
Her anxious wait was ended by the arrival of the Lord and two other werewolves through one of the side entrances that seemed to connect to a system of passages that she still had to explore. The bearded werewolf led the chained woman, a simple sack over her head. Was no one supposed to know who they were bringing to her? Slowly, Ignes set down the scalpel and the piece of cloth she'd used to polish it.

“This will be your most valuable test subject, from now on,” Maduke declared, hands behind his back. “I do not _only_ want you to do tests, though – I want her enhanced. A powerful warrior capable of challenging Muzaka.”  
He sure did not hold back with demands and Ignes almost asked who that woman was – until she realized that he was either going to tell her or not. Instead of asking further questions, she simply nodded. Zaiga pulled off the sack and shoved the red-head forward. For a few seconds, Ignes saw something in Maduke's eyes she could not name – all she knew was that it sent a shiver running down her spine.  
  
“I will keep you supplied with other test subjects – but for the time being, she will be your priority.” 

 


	3. Stop dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope those few who do read this enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, hah! Yes, you noticed right, I changed the rating to explicit because... future. I am not sure whether any of this so far qualifies as explicit but aye.  
> (PS: there is a noblesse discord (where I sometuimes gush about the themes and symbols and all in these chapters lol). Feel free to ask about it!)

How curious. When she forced her consciousness to sink into a state of slumber, she'd expected to live through the memories of her predecessors once more. Those were her favourites – to see the past come back to life, though she had not discovered a way to influence whose memories her dreams would show her. These days, dreams and ancient memories were better than the real, physical world. Between a waking nightmare and memories that were only hers by heritage, what was she supposed to choose?Slowly, she looked around. This corridor... felt vaguely familiar. A castle, though it belonged to no Lord she knew. Thick, black velvet curtains covered tall windows, blocking out almost all light. What did Dr. Halward say a couple of decades ago? One can only dream of faces and places one has seen before? Ignes wondered whether it was true for nobles as well. She felt acutely aware of being herself, as bare as newborn. The stone floor was cold under her naked feet. Glass shattered somewhere down the hallway. And then some more. Feeling unusually shy, Ignes placed her left arm over her exposed breasts. The sound of breaking glass and distant violins accompanied her solitary walk through the empty hallway. There was nowhere to go but the light at the end, where someone ( or something ? ) was raging against glass. Or maybe mirrors?

The ballroom was glaringly bright, lit by easily a dozen chandeliers, each holding countless candles to illuminate the vast room. A myriad of glass shards covered the floor and glistened like a tapestry of razor-sharp diamonds. Mirrors. She was not alone – a tall figure stood in the center and, for the fraction of a second, she felt hope. Hope that was crushed just like the mirrors that once had adorned this hall. Slowly, Maduke turned around to face her.  
“Come closer.” Almost sixty feet of broken glass were between them – and, to her own shock, she found herself unable to float the way a noble usually would. Crossing both arms in front of her chest, she took a tentative step forward, driven by a truly irrational fear. This was but a dream – and still, even dreams held a certain power.  
Fine shards dug into her soles, the slight crunch that accompanied each of her steps made her shudder in quiet disgust. Carefully, she made her way towards him, avoiding the shards was almost impossible. They would dig into her skin and stay there forever when her body tried to heal these wounds. No. They would not. She would wake up.

Maduke's greedy yellow gaze followed each of her movements, up and down, from head to toe, and for the first time in her life she felt uncomfortable about nudity. With a gentlemanly gesture, he offered his hand to her, bowing just slightly. She did not dare looking away, ensnared by the lifeless stare of his arylidean eyes. “Ignes.” He pronounced her name with the sternness of a disappointed father and made her want to step back and out of this nightmare. “Always so stubborn. You're such a _bad girl_.” His hand did not move, still waiting for her to take it. The corner of his mouth twitched in annoyance at the lack of her reaction. “Dance with me.”  
This was no polite request, but an order – and even though baring herself like that to his hungry eyes made her sick to the stomach, she still took the hand offered to her, keeping the other arm draped over her chest.  
“Is this how you dance?”, he placed his other hand on her waist and pulled her closer. Some dreams kept you trapped until you reached their conclusion – and so, she swallowed her pride and placed her other hand on his shoulder.  
“ _Good girl_.” With a firm hand, he led her, step by step, to the tune of violins and harps in the distance. At first, it was merely awkward – but with each step, she grew more and more aware of the shards beneath her feet. Punctures and cuts, healing up, pushing each other further up through her skin into her flesh where superior regeneration locked them in place. Some princesses needed shoes of glass – she made her own. Discomfort turned into pain, stinging with each step. In purest blood, she traced a map of their macabre little dance. His slow, measured steps picked up the pace and gave her no choice but to follow.

Even though her discomfort turned into pain, she did not stop dancing – her body would not follow her own command. _I will wake up now._ She didn't. Genuine fear seized her now – she should be able to wake up and yet found herself unable to do so. Even in her dreams, this monster had her trapped in a position from which she could not escape. And so she danced, terrified, unable to force her body for a single step out of tune.  
“Why ever stop dancing?”, he murmured in her ear, pulling her body against his. Was it better to dance on, each step granting a second of relief, or to stand still? She heard herself saying ' _yes_ ' against her own volition. For the first time, his expression, seemingly set in stone before, shifted into what might be considered a smile. Ignes could not tell how much time passed, she could hardly feel her feet anymore, covered in cuts, with countless shards driven through her skin all the way up against her bone. The pain started to feel uniform.

Finally, he had enough of dancing with her – and swung her around in an almost delicate spin – and she fell against his arm under her back, keeping her from falling to the floor. Her body still would not obey her. Lazily, his eyes traveled from her face over her bare chest, along the lines of her torso to her crotch, on to her bloodied and glass-covered feet and back up to her face. With his free hand, he tilted up her chin, a thumb brushed over her lower lip. Without warning, he let go of her and, instead of hitting the shard-covered floor, she fell into the void.

Ignes woke with a deep feeling of unease pooling in the pit of her stomach and she remained sprawled out on the bed until boredom overwhelmed nausea. She sat up and glanced down. Fully clothed at least. Through a push of willpower, she forced her clothing to transform from a tanktop to a shapeless sweater. After a moment of thought, she dismissed it as silly and forced it back into its previous appearance. Play it cool. A quick glance out of the window. The sun would set in a couple of hours – how much time had she spent in this nightmare?! A bored afternoon had turned into dread. Even though Ignes knew that the current set of results would take until next sunrise, she did not dare going back into sleep. If Maduke followed her even into her sleep, then it would be better to just stay awake. No good ever came from healthy nobles sleeping.  
The sun had almost set by the time she left her room, feeling too restless to just sit still and _wait_. Lagus often had nobles from different clans visiting him with questions – of legends and lore, of dreams and visions. Didn't he once say that all dreams were meaningful? She now wished she had cared about this area of study as well. Well, hopefully this really was just a fragment of her imagination running wild and not a vision of he future.  
Once more, she made her way down towards the west wing of the castle towards the great library. Weren't werewolves even more spiritual than nobles? Well, maybe once upon another time they had been. She was alone save for the librarian. An elderly werewolf, probably not pureblooded, but close to the natural lifespan of whatever their halfblooded wimps could live up to. He glanced at her over the rim of his glasses and knew better than to talk to her.

The tomes of spiritual and traditional recordings were close to the section of research papers written by werewolf scholars and scientists in the past hundred years which probably said a lot about them as a whole. Within the next couple of hours, she learned more about astronomy, lunar cycles, the meaning of moss and animals than she ever cared to know. Ancient books stacked on the table as she skimmed randomly chosen pages of the different books. She didn't want to ask the right questions. 

* * *

How often had he wished this throne would be the seat of someone worthy? A true leader who served as a prime example of all the werewolves stood for. After the false Lord has been disposed of, had he not built a magnificent castle around this throne? Worthy of a Lord, away from the old custom. A throne under the moon? This might have done well enough for the ancient wolves who had nothing to do with this world. They no longer lived in the forests like savages – and neither should their Lord. Slowly, Maduke placed a hand against the cold stone of the ancient throne. Carved by the first Lord with bare hands, if the tales were true. Ugly old thing, uncomfortable, and too plain to impress anyone. To be Lord felt as underwhelming as this throne by now.  
Maduke was no fool – something was brewing under the surface. Now that the old Lord showed back up again... how much time did he have left before he would show up at their doorstep, demanding to be handed back the power he never really cared about in the first place? Maduke knew that when it came to simple raw power, he would not live up to the old Lord. No... This matter required an approach better than brute force. The werewolves were beyond the old days when only the strongest warrior could be the Lord – the smartest, most cunning one must lead. He, who could see the bigger picture. He, who could see everything must lead, knowing where, knowing how. Not Muzaka, who did not know where he was going more than half of the time.

“Juraki.” The blue-haired werewolf stood at attention, together with Kentas. “I want you to tell the coast guard that I want the radar systems improved. No one should near the island without us noticing. And increase the range. Generously. Funds are not a question.” In the current state of the union, they hardly had any means of supervising his spendings anyway. This might not advance humanity... but it would advance him. Juraki nodded and bowed slightly before turning to leave.  
Maduke cast another wistful glance at the throne. When this was taken care of... when he'd asserted his reign for good... maybe then he would find the satisafaction he'd longed for. Until then...  
“Kentas. Call Mirai and Urne. I need to see them.”


	4. Need; Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize once more for Maduke being gross. gotta justify that E rating loool

Nocturnal noise at the training grounds lured Lunark out into the field. It was not unusual for particularly ambitious young wolves to train long past their hours - but the kind of power and energy she felt in the air was more than a young warrior in training could ever unleash in a simple training situation. The moon was but a narrow crescent in the dark night sky, obfuscated by translucent fog-like clouds, but she did not need any light to know who was out at this hour. The presence of a powerful Clan Leader was overwhelmingly obvious. In the sheltering darkness of the night, Ignes Kravei must have decided to hone her own fighting skills. For a few minutes, Lunark remained stood by the old oak, watching the noble and her soul weapon. The Leviathan - though she heard of it, she'd never actually seen it. The 4th Elder did not have the same lust for fights as his daughter and his fellow Elders.

Ignes stopped when she noticed the werewolf warrior approaching and the whip dissolved with a dainty flick of her wrist. "Lunark.  I thought werewolves only come out at full moon." Lunark didn't comment on the bad joke.  
"It's still 5th Elder to you, Ignes," Lunark pointed out cooly, not wishing to let too much familiarity arise between them. "Training all by yourself? It's nowhere as effective as sparring with a good partner, you know." She'd like to know what Ignes was made of - rarely did you get an opportunity to scout out a potential enemy in a friendly sparring session before conflict arose.  
Ignes shook her head with a laugh. "I'm done, really. I was about to head back."  
"Getting tired already? I'd have thought a woman like you would have more stamina."  
"I only spar with friends." Ignes flashed her a toothy grin. Cheeky. Lunark almost huffed in disapproval.  
"Most of the Elders were always down to show what they got." However, she figured that maybe there was at least one thing Roctis Kravei managed to teach his daughter - you should never let a potential enemy learn of your strengths and weaknesses beforehand. It was something he had understood better than Urokai Agvain and many other Elders. Just like Maduke, he'd kept his cards close to his chest. For a moment, Lunark felt a slight disappointment - it's been a while since her last good fight. Even though they lost three Elders that day... this Frankenstein had crossed her mind more than once. Such a worthy opponent in charm and power at the same time. She'd never thought a human could achieve such a power. Especially outside the Union. Maybe one day, she would cross his path not on the battlefield. 

Ignes had buried her hands in the pockets of her white lab coat as they walked next to each other across the training grounds.  
“Hey... where do you werewolves think you come from?”  
“I didn't know you liked old stories and tales.”

“I love them. Sometimes, stories and tales are better than what dreams and reality can offer you.”  
“Hm. Well. The Moonmother felt lonely, and so she offered a gift to the pack of wolves that accompanied her with great loyalty. To be as her, her companions. They accepted – and became the first werewolves.”  
“So she made them human?”  
“No. The children and grand-children of the wolves... those who turned away from the Moonmother lost her favour and her gift... and they became humans.”  
“Then what about nobles?”  
“Nobles? Some humans sought to gain the power of the Moonmother... and became magicians. And from them come the Nobles.”  
“Hmh. Well. Our origins are still kinder in your stories than yours in ours.”  
“Where do werewolves come from, then?”  
“The union of a human woman and a wolf, raised not with milk, but the blood of titans. The Great Wolf that killed the First Lord... and where does the Moonmother come from?”  
“She's as old as the mountains that touch the sky, as old as the tree, the birds, the seas... She _is_ the world.”  
“Mother Earth, then?”  
“Something like that, I suppose.”  
“I like that story.” Ignes chuckled. “I hope the Moonmother felt less lonely with her new comrades. Maybe I should make myself some friends down in the labs too.”

* * *

 Light fell through the tall windows unto the bed. The room still smelled like sex, sweat and smoke. Urne had left shortly after they were done, putting on her clothes quietly when she noticed he simply wanted to enjoy the cigar the 12th Elder had gifted him a couple of months ago. He'd shown no interest in talk, or, even worse, some kind of friendly, playful banter. Had he really wasted the whole night on lying in bed, doing nothing? Not very impressive.  
He felt empty. His mind wandered to the day ahead. A visit to the training grounds... to examine the young warriors in training... and to give Ignes the test subjects she'd asked for. Five. She would come with him. Not the most attractive noble he'd met... But good enough for a lonely Lord. With that shirt, she sure did not hide what she got. Too bad that mouth talked so much. He imagined what it would like to have those big crimson eyes look up, lips wrapped around his cock. No. Teary eyes, because he'd shoved it deep down her throat until she choked on it good. Then she definitely would stop talking. He wanted to run his hand through her hair, grab a fistful of it. His hand ran over his bare chest and below the silk cover of his bed.  
There were other beautiful women too. Ones he could not have ( _yet_ ). Like Lunark, who was most certainly the most attractive of his warriors. And still without a mate! What an outrage, wasn't it? Two gorgeous women unclaimed... He could have them both kneeling before him, there was plenty of cock for both of them. Or maybe he could just lean back and watch them fuck. He liked watching Mirai and Urne getting it on. There was something delightfully decadent about having the twins make a show for him. Or maybe he could have the twins too. Mirai hated Lunark so much, they should compete for his attention.   
A raspy groan escaped his throat. Ah, a Lord should not have to do this himself – though he did not feel the drive to get up and have someone called and did not have the patience to wait for someone to arrive. Or maybe he could go down to the laboratories... and face the excruciating choice. Garda, an old favourite, or Ignes, a young, untamed mare? Surely that noble pride of hers would make her fight back deliciously before she'd give in to the cock-craving slut slumbering in any woman. Maybe he could have Garda for a good warm-up before moving on to a more challenging one. Maybe have Ignes watch him fuck her new favourite test subject so she'd remember whose toy she was allowed to play with.

 He could have her on one of the laboratory tables, trap her between the cold steel of the table and the heat of his body. For once, she would be the one screaming down there. Oh yes. He'd make her scream. First with pain as he pounded into that tight cunt and then with pleasure as she realized she loved it. Then. Then Lunark could enter. When he was done with Garda and when he'd filled that pink noble cunt with his swelling cock, he could have Lunark take care of the clean up while he decided which of the three women he wanted next. He almost bit into his own hand, feeling a voracious desire to sink his teeth into the soft, tender flesh of breasts. Or maybe a delicate, exposed neck. Rip open a throat, watch someone struggle for breath, choking on their own blood, as he fucked the life out of them. That must be exciting, to make his own climax be the last thing someone feels before dying.

After having had had the honour of lying with him, what more could a woman ever want anyway?

* * *

 The sun had almost risen to noon by the time the Lord, his guard and his guest arrived at the training grounds. Maduke walked in front as always, the noble scientist to his left. Tall and silent, the warriors Juraki and Kentas walked at two paces behind their Lord and their guest. Gayare welcomed them with a slight bow to display his respect for the Lord.

“Gayare. Are they progressing well?”, Maduke inquired idly, stopping by the old oak. The young wolves were sparring in teams of two, meant to keep a mindful distance to other duels without losing focus on their primary enemy.  
“Gaura and Krano will soon be powerful enough to pass the Rites of the Warrior. There are some younglings who have potential.” And others would be better off serving their people not as pitiful warriors but as martyrs. Gayare's eyes narrowed when the noble walked passed him, hands in her pockets, strutting about like this place belonged to her.  
“Choose the five weakest, those who will bring no pride to our people as warriors such as they are,” Maduke ordered cooly, eyes scanning the young wolves as though he was looking for someone in particular.  
Gayare gave his order a few moments of thought and gained the attention of the young warriors-to-be with a sharp whistle. Slowly, they approached and knelt before their Lord. It was a great honour to see their leader, after all.  
“Osnet, Groose, Elvia, Otsoa, Greil. Step forward!”, he ordered and, with nervously furrowed brows, five young werewolves stepped forward, heads lowered. The noble leaned against the old oak, watching from a safe, neutral distance. At least she would not get to pick her toys herself like a spoiled brat.

For a couple of moments, the Lord merely stood still, taking time to examine each and everyone among the three dozens of young wolves before him.  
“The Werewolves are an old and proud people. The warriors have been the ones to guide, lead and protect our people ever since. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives – and so it is the pack that stands above the lone wolf. This wisdom holds true today just as much as it always did. Thus, each wolf must be willing to do anything for his pack – you five, you are weak, and through you, the pack becomes weaker as well. Tell me, will you bring shame to your people? Will you be a disgrace to the warriors? No. You shall not. You shall grow strong, and powerful, with our help, or you shall give your life to a greater cause. To the advancement and the progress of the pack. Of your people, whom you swear to protect with your life.”

He gestured for the five chosen ones to come closer. A ginger female clasped her hands over her mouth to stiffle a choked sob. “Mercy, my Lord! I can do better! I swear I can do better!” She earned uneasy glances between shock, pity and disgust from the wolves surrounding her.  
“If this coward won't do her duty, I will!” Another werewolf stepped forward and fell on one knee, saluting his Lord fervently.  
“Allow me to serve my people in her place, my Lord!”  
Maduke glanced down at him, and back to the sobbing werewolf girl. One of them shone with loyalty, the other with cowardice. “One who wishes to dedicate himself to his people must not be stopped,” he stated with a nod of approval. “As of this woman...”

He was about to utter a death sentence when he felt the touch of soft fingertips on his arm. Ignes had stepped away from the tree and up to him, and he almost slapped away her hand for the audacity to touch and interrupt him in front of his subordinates.  
“Pardon my interruption,” she stated quickly, probably realizing that she was moving on thin ice. “... I do not mean to stand in the way of justice... but this woman can still serve her people... her lack of resolve does not lessen the amount of knowledge I might gain from her.”  
To have her executed here, in front of all these younglings... The time had not come just yet. It must settle in their minds first, this understanding for the things they had to do for the sake of their people.  
“And who would punish half a child for wavering? We are no monsters, child. Step forward.” Trembling, the woman stepped closer and fell to her knees before him. A couple of centuries old, old enough to know that one should never disobey the order of a Lord. But in this particular moment, it might be better to show himself as merciful.  
“Do you want to bring pride to our people?”  
“Yes, my Lord.”  
“We are no humans who kill our own kind for our own greed, are we? All we do serves a greater purpose – or do you say you know better than your Elders what the greater purpose is?”  
She winced, stared at Ignes' boots instead of daring to look at him. “No, my Lord.”  
“Then think before you speak, lest someone less merciful than I decides you spread treason and dissent, child.”  
“Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord.”  
Maduke turned away abruptly. “Congratulations, Ignes. You bargained for five and receive six instead. Make good use of them. And...” He glanced down at her and for a moment, his gaze lingered on her neck. “... interrupt me one more time in front of my people and you will pay dearly.” He lowered his voice threateningly. These words were meant for her and no one else.  
“Juraki. Kentas. Accompany Ignes and these six heroes to the castle, where they will embrace their duty. Everyone else get back to training.”

He wanted to be alone. 


	5. Attempt; Command

Heavy velvet curtains blocked out most of the light trying to flood into the tea room. Occasionally, Maduke would receive her in here, rather than the throne room. As always, he poured two glasses of an amber liquor that left a pleasant heat in her throat after each sip. Even though she'd put on fresh lipstick just half an hour ago, Lunark did not refuse the cigar offered to her. To smoke was an accepted human form of socializing, that's something both of them had learned with the Union. Lunark briefly wondered whether he smoked for the taste or for the simple act of it.

“What was it like?” Maduke stood near the cabinet where he held the bottles of whiskey and brandy he'd acquired over the past centuries, examining the labels with an empty stare.  
“What was what like?”, she asked, genuinely not sure where his mind must have wandered off to this time.  
“The Noblesse. You've seen him in action twice, now.” He picked up his glass and sat in the other armchair, angled towards her.  
Lunark mulled over her answer carefully. “His power is tremendous.” Terrifying. Briefly, she thought of the modified human she'd encountered. Easily as powerful as a noble clan leader or werewolf warrior. _What a man.._. Maduke observed her, attentive eyes focused on her face. At least he had that much respect for her.  
“He _was_ as powerful as our previous Lord, after all.” A cold shudder ran down Lunark's spine when he brought up Muzaka. He surely had not forgotten their failed attempt at disposing of him. All things considered, he probably did not forgive, either. Dismissively, Maduke waved his hand and lit another cigar. The smoke's scent was sharp and intense. Smoke rose up towards the ceiling.

“You are among our best warriors, Lunark,” he started. “And an esteemed member of the pack and union.” This was not the first time he said something like that and Lunark had a good hunch of where he meant to steer this conversation.  
“Thank you,” she said politely and quickly reached for her glass of whiskey. A sip – red lipstick stained the rim of the glass when she set it down on the small side table between their armchairs.  
“It's almost an outrage you are still without a partner,” he continued.  
To be the mate of the Lord was an honour in itself – one she would gladly refuse. Though he may be a reasonably handsome man when it came down to his facial structure, she could not particularly say that she was _drawn_ to him. Once more, her thoughts wandered off to the blond man who fought like the devil incarnate. Fighting him had given her a thrill no werewolf had given her ever before. The way he _relished_ in the fight...  
“Your answer must not be immediate,” Maduke continued, his genteel expression turning into a stern poker face that thinly veiled the rage boiling up inside of him. No answer was more than half a rejection, after all.  
“You humble me, Lord,” she finally said softly, briefly lowering her gaze to express the respect he was due as her Lord and superior Elder. Her cigar was little but ash and she reached forward to extinguish what was left.

“There is one more thing, before you may leave,” he stated, leaning back in his armchair. Lunark mirrored him and leaned back as well, awaiting his next words patiently.  
“Ignes has been quite a gift out of nowhere. Her knowledge is valuable to us. Tomorrow, her first three successfully modified warriors will join the training and prove their worth. When she has worked out the kinks in the procedures … The nobles and the union do not idle. Neither should we.”  
“Do you trust her, Lord?”  
Maduke puffed his cigar thoughtfully. “No.” He exhaled. “But I know what she wants.” There was no need to elaborate any further – once you knew what someone wanted... you knew what they were going to do. She'd seen what happened – and she could guess what Ignes would want more than anything – at least for the time being. Maduke emptied out his glass and set it back down on the side table.  
“I presume you, too, will accept the boon of power that surpasses your own, won't you?”, he inquired, watching her reaction with greatest attention.  
“No,” Lunark answered with hardly any thought. “My strength must come from within.” Like a true warrior – something she stopped herself from saying just in time. To criticize him and the path they were taking as a race... could be dangerous. “This is my personal preference, at this point in time,” she added carefully. Maybe the insinuation she might change her mind later down the road might appease him. Whether it worked or not, she could not tell – he knew how to hide his true thoughts and feelings most of the time.

“At one point or another, we all will have to choose to embrace the future or cling to the past and its traditions.” His gaze followed the smoke of his cigar towards the ceiling. “You may leave now, Lunark.” 

* * *

Dead leaves crunched under their boots. The air was getting thinner as they moved higher up into the mountainous areas of the island. They had left behind all settlements and Ignes started to wonder where Maduke was taking her, exactly.  
“The new research station is in the works east of here,” he stated, speaking up for the first time in well over two hours. Maduke was not a hurried man. Ah, but it was good to hear that he had considered her request. More privacy... and more space. Away from the busy castle.  
“That's great.” She forced a smile. Stay cheerful! “When will it be done?”  
“Soon.”

He had nothing else to say and neither did she.

They followed up a trail into the mountains, a dead area. Even with her superior noble senses, she picked up no trace of noteworthy wildlife. Not even birds. Though Ignes hated to admit it, this place was _eerie_.

“Lagus Tradio made an incredibly important discovery about four hundred years ago,” Maduke started. “He found the source of the legendary power of blood stones – and, more importantly, how to make them. At first, he only had the one – and then, he had all the bloodstones he could possibly dream of. I helped him. It was here that he found the secret of the stones.”  
Then she was right: this place was _downright cursed_. Ser Lagus had shown her a bloodstone exactly once and she would never forget how warm and powerful it felt in her hands. Bloodstones were another level than what she had done with the Union. Whatever Lagus Tradio had done here, it must have seeped into the crags of the stones and poisoned the roots of the trees. They stopped in front of a vertical rock wall. A door, carved into the stone. Old noble symbols.  
“You know how to open such doors, don't you?”  
Slowly, Ignes nodded. Ser Lagus had a similar laboratory in the forests of modern Cambodia. Father had been reluctant to allow her to accompany him there. “Only noble blood can open it.” She ran her fingertips over the carvings and stopped at the center. As expected, the bump in the center was the pommel of an ornate dagger of a black metal alloy. If it slid out of its place so easily.. someone must have been here recently. With a questioning gaze, she glanced at Maduke.  
“Lagus Tradio has been here about one week before you came here,” he explained, though he was rather distracted by Ignes cutting her palm open with the fine edge of the blade. Red, powerful blood coated the dagger. Carefully, she placed it back in its slot in the center of the gate and the stone gave in to her gentle touch - effortlessly, she moved it aside. This place was full of power. 

“He, along with two other nobles and some of my warriors, attempted to seize control of Lukedonia,” Maduke continued as he entered the dark corridor first. Ignes followed him, her right hand trailing along the wall.  
“He met his end there. It is only fitting you inherit his precious research.”  
Braziers lit up in the main laboratory once they touched upon their energy. Not even nobles could see in total darkness, after all. The antechamber to the laboratory was surprisingly cozy, with two corridors connecting. One of them led down, deeper into the mountain, the other must connect to the main place where experiments happened.

“I want you to take his research and learn all you can, lest you wish to share his fate...” A trailing threat – failure was no option for several reasons. Ignes swallowed. So Lagus.. one of the most powerful, intelligent nobles she knew... Ser Raizel must have had a hand in this. Swallowing hard, she examined the desk. Letters and notes have been left behind without care as though their author had expected to return to them. They were written in ciphers, though she knew most of the codes Lagus usually used. Hopefully, she would be able to gain some knowledge from them.

“Your progress is too slow with traditional methods. We are running out of time.” Maduke stood with his back turned to her, examining ancient books on an old, wooden shelf. “Harness the power of the bloodstones, Ignes, nevermind the cost.” 

* * *

 Warriors were beacons of virtue and a pride to the werewolf race. Their power rivaled the noble clan leaders of Lukedonia. Any who called themselves a warrior brought great pride to their kin of blood. Yet nature knew its limits. The noble witch's hands were cool against his skin. “Are you sure about that?”, she asked, surprise genuine.  
“Yes.” Gorma grit his teeth when the needle sunk into his neck, attached with a patch covered in a sticky substance. Tranquilizers dropped into his veins from a transfusion bottle hung up above him.  
“It's extremely painful,” the noble witch repeated, voice still deceptively soft and sweet. “Once I start, there is no going back.”  
“A true warrior fears no pain,” he grunted, numbness spreading gradually in his limbs. He could not move. All he saw was the noble's crimson eyes and her little smile.

“ … so brave... and strong... My. I will be gentle with you. Promised.”


	6. Suspicion; Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, it is I, once more! At this point I just wanted to say, I posted "On Bloodstones", which details Ignes' findings in Lagus' notes she received in the previous chapters! This is not a must-read for this story, but very useful, because all knowledge on bloodstones Ignes has, she acquires from the posted excerpts.
> 
> Friendly reminder: please don't trust my narrators.

When he was ordered to bring the four unassuming werewolves to the training grounds, he had not anticipated that the others would flock around them like prophets that had descended to announce the will of the Moonmother. Four out of six – a good survival rate, if the Noble was to believed. Not that it made it any better – though the five weakest future warriors were chosen, along with one foolish volunteer, they were still people of their clan and race. Their lives must not be thrown away with such clinical calm. Their sacrifice turned into a statistic.  
When Groose defeated Gaura with ease, the young whelps had marveled at the sudden increase in power. One of their weakest, defeating the most powerful of their group? The one who was almost ready to ascend into the ranks of warriors? This was the gift of the devil they had invited into their palace. They fed her the blood of their people and in return, she gave them the boon of unnatural power that came with nothing but shame. Would their sacrifice go to waste? Would these four survivors use it to bring pride to their people?  
Listening to them, Juraki had doubts he kept to himself in discreet silence. One of them was raving with particular fervor. Gorma, once unassuming, with the fire of obsessive passion in his eyes, younger werewolves gathered around him. In the corner of his eyes, Juraki noticed Gayare leaning against a tree with his arms crossed in front of his chest. A scornful huff. No warrior who respected their ways would ever agree to such a thing.

“That's the true way of the warriors!”, Gorma exclaimed in breathless ecstasy. For the first time in his life, he spoke and others listened. “We fear no pain! We are no cowards who sleep through our own glory!” He thrust up his fist and was met with cheerful, excited agreement as well as loud protest and disbelief. Could he really have undergone such intense modifications without any kind of anesthesia? Had he really endured the pain of knives and scalpels, of needles and injections, of breaking bones and lasers?  
“No way! No one can bear that!” - “That's amazing! I want to do that too!” - “You? You're too much of a whimp!” - “Just you watch until I got my enhancement! I'll beat your -”  
“ _ **Silence**_!” Gayare decided to step in before the young wolves all got ahead over themselves. Juraki already could see Ignes flooded with easily impressed young warriors who would rather take the easy way instead of earning the honour of being called a warrior.

“He is right,” he suddenly said, speaking up for the first time since arriving at the training grounds. Both pragmatism and honour urged him on to speak out on this matter – so maybe some might be deterred from their ways while others might at least learn a valuable lesson as they attempted to find an easy way out of hard training and constant self-improvement.

“Nothing worthy comes for free. A warrior is not afraid of pain, or suffering, but grows from it in strength and wisdom.”

* * *

 To hide in dark corners and speak of things no other pair of ears should hear was something deeply human. The upper battlements of the west wing were almost always quiet safe for Maduke's occasional walks and the regular patrol passing by. A good place to speak frankly, and openly. They surely aroused less suspicion than in the woods, that much was certain.  
Though Kentas was not really someone Lunark would consider a _friend_ , the circumstances were unusual. Whatever was brewing under the surface, they both could feel it. They stood at the precipice of disaster and no one else seemed to notice, following the tunes of their Lord and his pied piper. This shared premonition of inevitable doom made them unanticipated allies.

“I have heard that the young wolves the scientist received recently overpowered all of their peers with ease,” Kentas noted. Of course he'd heard of it – and now, apparently there are plenty of volunteers. The Youth of today... Their pride and their future, seduced by malicious temptations. It sorrowed her – knowing Maduke, there was no way he was being so lavishly generous with Ignes without ulterior motives that would serve him and other powerful members of their race, not just a couple of young warriors in training.

“They are up to something,” Lunark stated, plain and simple. She still had memories of the Old Lord... he, who vanished... and reappeared on the island, in a swirl of wild events. “Ignes must have profound knowledge of werewolves. That's how she must have escaped the Noblesse. By releasing Muzaka. Then maybe he was not gone after all.. not willingly. And not as a traitor.”  
“... but _removed_?”, Kentas inquired and received a solemn nod. If that was true... then their lord was a traitor himself. A thought that was easy to swallow. Not that it changed much. Maduke knew how to play the fiddle to tunes that would make the warriors dance. They followed him loyally – even if their rightful Lord resurfaced, who's to say that this would change a single thing?

“If there is any place where we can find answers, it's in the laboratories. Ignes knows more than she lets on. But she is chatty. She might end up slipping. Or maybe I find something else. One way or another... “  
“We should try and investigate?”  
“Yes. We should try and investigate. I just hope the opportunity will present itself before it's too late.”

* * *

 To be defeated by someone like Groose was a humiliation she could barely bear. She, who had been praised by Gayare in front of the Lord himself! Shame had burned in the pit of her stomach all day and night after she's been beaten in a duel by this modified werewolf. Slowly, her disdain and embarrassment had turned into burning, biting ambition. Could she pass up on such an opportunity? Would she let others choose artificial enhancement and be left behind? Gaura knew at least three who were dead set on receiving the modifications next.

One week later, she found herself down in the laboratories too. Her first time in the castle, impressive, vast, empty.  
The noble was hardly intimidating, up close. She had the energy of a buzzing bee, going from flower to flower, always something to do. Cheerful, maybe. Gaura sat on the examination table, feet dangling over the floor. With great distrust, she'd watched the noble take blood samples and samples of her hair and nail clippings. No. She was not supposed to care – and thus, she did not ask, though she could not deny her curiosity over all the equipment, beeping monitors, lights and fluids in different flasks and containers.

Ignes has been silent for the past few minutes, rummaging through various files on a table in the corner of the laboratory. The room was silent safe for the rustle of paper and the beeping of a machine in the background.

“Gaura... how old were you, did you say?”  
“Almost seven hundred and seventy.”  
“So... your parents... were they warriors too?”, she asked, casually, though her inquisitive gaze did not match the casual bounce of her voice. The young warrior's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
“My mother was a warrior. And I think my father too. But I never met them.”  
“Oh. That's sad.” Ignes made her straighten up her back and tilted up her chin with indexfinger and thumb to position her head straight. Suddenly, Gaura felt uncomfortable under that scrutinising, crimson gaze. Ignes stared at her as though she was looking for something - but _what_?  
“My mother was a traitor,” she insisted, determined to _spit_ on Ignes' pity. “And traitors deserve to-”  
“Yes. I know,” Ignes interrupted her and stepped away to return some papers back to their stack on the table. For an uncomfortably long moment, the Noble stared at her as though something else lingered on her tongue – whatever it was, Gaura did not want to hear it and felt a slight sense of relief when Ignes clearly dismissed it.  
“What do you care, anyway? It's none of your business.”  
“I was just being curious. Chatting.” She picked up another syringe, probably to extract more samples.  
“There is a saying, isn't there? Curiosity killed the cat, or something like that?”  
“Indeed it did,” Ignes agreed ominously and continued the rest of her work in silence.


	7. Clean; Impure

Once more, Ignes found herself amazed by the extent of research the werewolves had conducted already even before she'd come to their island. Zaiga and another old warrior had hauled the onyx bowl to an abandoned facility. Idly, she examined her surroundings. This building, though its equipment was gravely outdated, was well-maintained. In a sudden moment of clarity, she realized that this must be where Garda has been held before she was given into her care at the laboratories in the castle. This is where the warrior had suffered for the past centuries. Even though that woman was a stranger to her... even though she had been kept unconscious for most of the time since being handed into her care.. She still felt something akin to pity rearing its ugly head. The reports alone were enough to make her have a good hunch of what had happened down here. Both at the hands of the scientists as well as Maduke himself.  
Before her thoughts could wander off to the young warrior she'd met last week, Zaiga returned, accompanied by three chained human men. As per the instructions left behind in Lagus' research jounrals, she placed one starstone in the diamond-coated bowl of onyx. It was cold and heavy in her hands, its dark surface sprinkled with bright dots reminded her of stars indeed. Carefully, she placed it down in the basin and pulled Lagus' ornate dagger from its old, withered sheath of leather. Though she assumed that any knife, dagger or scalpel would do, she felt as though it was most fitting to proceed such as her old mentor would have done. He, who cared more for rituals than she did - but Magic was fickle like that.

“Bring forth the first sacrifice,” she ordered and Maduke yanked an older man forward. The human stumbled and fell to her feet. He cried for mercy in a language she heard for the first time. Most likely an unwilling test subject taken by the Union, such as things usually went. Without much decorum, she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him up, a strangled yell of pain slipped past his chapped lips. She did not look him in the eyes when she slit his throat using the rune-carved blade of Lagus' ceremonial dagger. The crying and begging of the other test subjects turned into whimpers and prayers as the man bled out into the bowl.

In this moment, she _felt_ it – the energy of his lifeforce seeping from his body and, unlike usually, it did not merely vanish. No. It remained in this room, filled the air with its static power as the starstone soaked it up – and turned red. “The next one!”  
This was a large stone, and more blood would fit before it would take no more.

The laboratory smelled like death and blood once more. “Leave me alone. Dispose of the bodies.” Absent-mindedly, she waved her bloodstained hand and the two warriors, albeit reluctantly, followed her orders, dragged off the three coprses as they left her alone in the room.

Blood had splattered everywhere, she was not used to slashing throats and actively bleeding out people. Her coat was ruined, it had gotten all over her hands, her arms, splattered on the floor, she felt as though surely there must be some of her face as well. What a mess. Arteries always caused such an awful mess, she usually avoided them for a reason.

It did not matter. Blood could be washed off.

Carefully, she picked up the faintly glowing red stone. Lagus had shown her the so-called Godstone once and she knew exactly that this was a genuine bloodstone she held in her hands. There was absolutely no doubt in it. So Lagus really found a way... Though she knew of the detrimental effects of the bloodstones, the temptation was too great, her curiosity overwhelming. Without care, she drew power from the stone – from her fingertips it spread through her veins, filled each cell of her body with a force she'd never known before. A force that almost frightened her – and with a loud clank, she dropped the fist-sized bloodstone to the floor. Indeed – what could one do with such a power in their hands? Especially with the discoveries Lagus had made...

The feeling of power running through her body still resonated within her later, back in the castle. By Maduke's permission to 'make herself at home', she'd borrowed the key to his bathroom and found herself enjoying the feeling of languishing in hot water. Normally, a body of running water, such as a river, a waterfall or even the opean sea would have done better, had she really felt as though self-purification was not _symbolically meaningful_ enough.  
Ignes did not remember the last time she had chosen to take a normal bath in a tub. She'd lit a handful of candles, painting the dark bathroom in warm shades of orange and if the smell of the Lord did not cling to every towel and each floor tile, she might even consider it comfortable. When the water started to cool, she rose from the dark granite bathtub and stepped out, her wet feet feeling cold against the marble. Water dripped from her arms and legs, from her wet hair over her back and all over the floor. Slowly, she sauntered over to the large mirror leaning against one of the walls. The towels bore the scent of a strong, unpleasantly masculine perfume that could not cover up his natural scent and she refused to have any of that even touch her skin. Instead, she remained naked, examining her bare form in the mirror.  
Her face was not framed by angelic waves of golden curls and she did not bear herself with the regal countenance of a queen, and altogether, her face looked much too round, pointy. That was not even really _cute_. Thoughtlessly, she cupped her breasts with her hands. She could swear they had grown over the past months. And maybe her face was less childish by now, or maybe she was merely imagining she looked more like an adult and less like a girl by now.

Maybe she was merely average at best for a pureblooded noble... but she liked to think that she was still a reasonably attractive woman.

* * *

 Maduke had known it, deep down in his heart, and still felt a mild surprise when she'd voiced the request. Make yourself at home, he'd told her. Sometimes, he had one of the twins join him for a bath when he felt like switching things up for a bit of change. She could have asked him, too, though instead she preferred to play coy first, apparently. No invitation had followed, and when she'd closed and locked the door, he understood the fun would only come when she was done. Good. That would at least give him something to look forward to when dealing with Union matters that could not be delegated to someone else.

He returned to his chambers later, and found the noble's presence still lingering in the bathroom. Huh. Someone took her sweet time. Feeling an almost giddy sense of anticipation, he grabbed two glasses from a side stand as well as the bottle of port he'd opened recently. Though human alcohol had no effect, he enjoyed the warmth that came after each sip. Maduke had settled on the loveseat in the corner with a cigar by the time Ignes left the bathroom, dressed in simple black as always. Huh. Why had she even gone through the trouble of getting dressed?

She politely lowered her head to signal her respect, clearly. “Thank you. I shall no longer occupy your rooms.”  
“No. Sit down.” He furrowed his brows, realizing that, contrary to his firmest conviction, she might not have had any intentions of giving herself to him, after all. Still..  
After a moment of hesitation, Ignes sat down next to him and he handed her the other glass. Shifting to angle his body towards her, he draped his free arm over the backrest near her shoulders.  
“Drink.” She did not break eye-contact with him as she took a sip.  
“What a shame the 4th Elder just kept you hidden for so long, like a locked-up songbird...”  
Quickly, Ignes looked away and he watched her attentively. Someone was being coy... or maybe _shy_. Nobles who had no relations until late into their lives were no exception, if he was not mistaken. Ah, was there anything delicious but the _virgin vixen_?  
“I do not intend to pry, but you probably did not meet too many people, all locked up in that silvery cage of home... Men, especially...” Apart from that shrunken raisin, the 9th Elder... and Roctis, of course, and though he knew that unions between relatives were not unheard of...  
“I was never interested in any of that,” she replied curtly, shifting away from him, towards the armrest and the implications of these words made him feel a wild, furious desire that he had not felt in ages. _I want to be your first_. To claim a young female was almost sacred, not comparable to using someone who'd given herself to others countless times already. Like the twins, easy-going, fun, worthless. Not a prize to be won. But women like Lunark and Ignes...

“I have studied the journals of Lagus Tradio,” Ignes said all of a sudden and Maduke snapped out of his current train of thought. Slowly, he blinked. Tradio...? Ah. Yes. The Bloodstones. He straightened his position and reached for his glass. He would have her, eventually.  
“What about them?”, he inquired nonchalantly, feeling impatient all of a sudden. Impatient to tell her to leave and get better company.

“I managed to create a bloodstone from starstone today, using the methods he specified in his research notes.”  
“Good. Then proceed, and make the best use of them.”  
“There is something else, though.” Ignes placed her almost full glass on the side stand closest to her. “... the bloodstones all seemed to affect the mental state of any who used them.”  
“How so?”  
“Lagus called it the ' _Delusion of Blood_ '. A change in behaviour and personality in any who have too much contact with it. To use them on all warriors, on a larger scale... _or even yourself._..”  
“And what other hocus-pocus did he mention in his books? That we must sing and dance naked at full moon by the nearest river in order to maintain our powers? I thought you were a woman of real science, Ignes.”  
“I am merely relaying what he found out in his books.”  
He waved his hand in dismissal.  
“I said _nevermind the cost._ That's a risk I am willing to take. And now leave.”

 Ignes left the room cold and empty and him annoyed and frustrated.

Though it pained him to call for the twins, he saw himself at an impasse with his own moods and whims. The rejection of two women in such short time burned in his guts like caustic bile. Listlessly, he watched Mirai's hands wander over Urne's breasts and over her toned stomach, watched the blue-haired werewolf kiss the neck of her twin sister and hardly felt the same extravagant lust he usually felt when he made them break the unwritten etiquette of not getting too touchy with your closest relatives.  
They were used, rode him too many times, swallowed his seed too many times, tried to please him too many times to be new and exciting. There was nothing to be had from them.

Eventually, he ended up sending both of them away – and while Ignes had merely made him annoyed, they had left him absolutely and thoroughly livid now. Was there no one and nothing in this castle that would soothe the fire that tormented him to the core? They all must think of him as a joke, an impotent joke who lacked the virility and power to be a Lord. Lunark, did she doubt his power? This insolent bitch, mocking him with her lack of response as though he did not know she was perfectly aware of his sincere and perfectly courteous interest in her. Ignes was no better, flaunting herself in front of him like a piece of meat, a lamb ready for the slaughter. What would her blood taste like on his tongue? Would she still act like such a haughty bitch when he made her his? Would Lunark still parade around with the pride of a woman who could afford to reject the Lord?

Yes, he might not find release in sex – but anger, anger and rage were a form of pleasure too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Ignes requested to use Maduke's bathroom since, as we learned from Seira, nobles do not need baths or showers to keep themselves clean. Hence, she has none of her own.


	8. Warm, Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thank you and welcome to another round of hell. As of now, this work will probably end up having 13 chapters unless I realize that certain scenes end up longer than expected and require to turn it into more chapters to remain balanced.  
> Friendly reminder, as always, don't trust my narrators. And don't trust my characters.

How long since she lost all sense of dream and truth? Was this waking nightmare any more real than her dreams of what once was? What if her dreams were reality, disrupted by nightmares when the dream of reality seeped into her mind? The lines were blurred, visages drawn by reality as much as her dreams in the same fashion that left her unable to distinguish the two.

Garda wanted to dream of the sway of grass in the wind and the splash of fish in the river. She wanted to dream of the warmth of the sun on her face and the scent of the forrest. She wanted to dream of the children he'd tore from her breast and thrown to the butcher. Innocent fruits of his evil seed, saplings trampled by his boots before they could even hope to see the light of day. For her past, she paid with her present and her future. Loyalty was met with laughter, hope with hate, despair with delight. Had she not begged enough? Eventually, she'd stopped begging for herself and begged for the lives he'd forced her to put into this cruel world instead.

Once, she'd hoped, prayed, begged that Muzaka would come. He would come and free her, he would come and save her from the claws of a tyrant and a madman. He never came, left her alone in the dark. Bleeding. Beaten. Betrayed.

Weakly, she pulled against the metal that held her in place by her wrists and ankles. Her attempts at opening her eyes were met with blindingly glaring lights that made her clinch her eyes shut to counter the unbearable brightness.  
“My, you're awake... What a resistance. I'll need to up your doses, huh?”  
The voice was a vaguely familiar one, and squinting through half-closed eyelids, crimson was the only thing she saw as she drifted back into the twilight lands between nightmare and reality.

* * *

To have a strong army meant nothing if you, yourself, were incapable of standing up to anyone who might think they must try to rise above you. His guidance would not undo the old traditions that pushed for power and strength – and so he, too, must follow.  
When he entered the laboratory, Ignes ordered her assistants (yes, his own scientists, degraded to mere assistants!) to leave the room. Privacy. Avoiding eye contact with them both, the werewolves left the Lord and the scientist alone. Maduke sat on the leather-padded examination table and watched Ignes rummage through the files on her desk. He hated these examinations and hated all the procedures that would work towards his magnificence. In an ideal world, he would not need to go through any of this himself. This world was not ideal, though, or else, many things would be very different.

“You still have your clothes on,” Ignes noted with a fleeting glance in his direction and he complied. Without too much haste, he undid the buttons of his coat and hung it over the chair neatly, followed by his shirt. Followed by crimson eyes, he stripped down to his briefs and folded his clothes to put them aside. Something about her gaze made him feel uncomfortable – he was not used to being scrutinized like that.  
After a good minute of silence, she stepped closer and placed her hands on his chest to push him down to sit on the table and Maduke complied, gaze fixated on her face. She looked so... concentrated, almost not there. Plain as she may be, she was still beautiful in that moment, in her own handsome way. 

 “The implants healed well,” she stated, picking up his left arm to examine the faint traces of scars that would be gone within the next days. Routine, as she'd said, and that's how she'd performed it too. It was strange, to deliver himself to the hands of someone else. Maduke could not remember any precedents in which he'd shown someone the amount of trust he showed her by letting her close with her knives, scalpels and needles. Surely she could not deny that there was something special about it. Something... almost magic, maybe. Helplessly, in blind faith, he'd delivered himself to her and the gifts she brought. How easy it would be. She might be long gone by the time someone came to look, down here. Yet she was here. 

Her fingertips traced the reddened line of faint white where she'd cut open his upper arm days ago. With the admiration of a true expert, she squeezed his biceps and he flexed the muscle against her ungloved fingers. “I don't know how well these modifications actually perform,” she stated, even-toned, one hand pressed down on his shoulder firmly as she moved his arm with the other. Down here, he let her pull the strings, allowed her to reshape his body into the full potential that defied nature with the majesty of the divine. She who gave him his army and his absolute power. This was not all she was going to give him. Only a fool could behold her genius and not desire to possess it whole. Unfazed by his lack of response, she continued. “You should get back into practice too, to get familiar with your new powers... after all.. what is power when you don't know how to wield it?” She chuckled and that girlish, innocent sound made him smile as well. He placed one hand against her waist and Ignes tolerated the touch. “I need another sample of your blood,” she said softly and stepped aside, away from his hand.  
“Another?”  
“Yes. I need it.”  
He grit his teeth but let her do anyway. He'd given her more than just his blood at this point. A small price to pay for all that she would give him. Now and later.

“How are you progressing with your tasks?”, he inquired while she stood behind him, tracing lines with her index finger over his back and up along his spine. The feeling of her fingernail scraping across his skin drove him almost wild.  
“Well enough. There is one thing on my mind. Last week, there was this young warrior...”  
“And...?” He waited, eyebrow raised, and almost turned around to catch a glimpse of her face.  
“... nothing. I don't mean to be indiscreet.”  
Ah. She needn't continue, he knew what she meant anyway. Of course, she was a bright girl, and bound to notice. He almost wanted to ask questions – he wanted to hear praise of his blood, he wanted to hear that things had gone well. No, he did not care. That girl was a stranger to him, one he had seen a couple of times when inspecting the young warriors of the future, one face among many. She might have half his blood in her veins – but she was but a stranger, another pawn on his board. He mustn't let himself forget.  
“I appreciate your discretion, Ignes,” he finally stated dryly and assumed that Ignes would understand that she'd best not ask any further questions.

“... another thing,” she said quickly, switching the topic. Hopefully to something more pleasant, this time.  
“The bloodstones... I would not dismiss Lagus' thoughts. If he observed a change in his subjects... and he, too...”  
“What are you talking about? He was perfectly normal.”  
“I _knew_ him! That... none of it sounded like his usual modus operandi.”  
“We already talked about this before!”, he snapped back at her in furious irritation. Ah, must she always talk back at him? Ignes always knew how to stifle the mood with her loose mouth. “We are **not** going to change course. This project has no place for cowardice.”

* * *

  The day lingered on her mind with a bitter aftertaste and poisoned Ignes' mood into the evening, the last of her appointments before she could call it a day and retire to her lone experiments without having to interact with any of the werewolves. First, however... 

In preparation of tomorrow's procedures, she ran the last tests on the lucky chosen ones who would receive her gift of power. When Gaura came in, Ignes' mind wandered back to her conversation with Maduke. Surely, it must have been an awful mistake to slip that she had noticed. No use crying over spilled milk, though, as the 9th Elder would always say whenever something went wrong. However, she still could not stop berating herself for this slip of tongue. In this place, ignorance was the best strategy. She was not foolish, after all.

The gentle knock of knuckles rapping against the door tore through her focus and, with an annoyed sigh, she turned her head. Without waiting for an actual invitation, their intruder opened the door and nodded politely. Juraki, probably here to carry out yet another errand for his Lord.  
“Gaura. The Lord wishes to see you. When you are done here, I will escort you to him.” The expression on his face looked almost sour, as though there was something that weighed heavy on his mind.  
A blush crept over the young warrior's cheeks as she clearly tried to decide whether this was a joke or not. The senior warriors rarely took notice of them, let alone the Lord! He who was known to be particularly reclusive. “Really? He called for _me_?”, she asked, feeling embarrassed for she was so girlishly flustered. Of course, this invitation could mean anything, and Ignes and Juraki exchanged a look that spoke of uncertainty.

“You can get dressed. I am done for today – and I will see you tomorrow.” Now was as good a moment to end this as any – and she gestured for the blue-haired warrior to leave the room as well while the young redhead had time to get dressed.  
“Poor girl. Our Lord must have grown bored of the company of Mirai and Urne,” he remarked dryly. Everyone knew why the Lord wished to see those two so often. Whatever they hoped to gain from it, he was not sure whether they got it or not.  
“And why do you pity her? He won't harm her.”  
“You sound quite sure of that,” he noted suspiciously. Something aboug Ignes' knowing tone displeased him greatly, and even if only because he did not like how she basked in some secret certainty she had for one reason or another.  
“I know he won't hurt her... because I know something you don't.”

A father would never lay a finger on his daughter, after all.

* * *

 Like a malicious leech, the thought had clawed itself into his mind and spread its poison through his veins. Was he _weak_? The yearning he had felt when Ignes touched him had been almost unbearable, tearing him apart even though the touch of the twin sisters did almost nothing to him. And her seemingly innocent question had cast him into what felt like a pit of despair. A stranger. He should be ashamed for even asking Zaiga about her progress from time to time. _Shame, shame, shame, you don't care_. _Cold, colder, coldest, she is one of many_. Power knew no limits but those he set himself. And so, he sent our Juraki to call for her. Because he could never be free from this weight in his chest unless he broke all boundaries that might still hold him in place.

A careful knock. “Enter.” Maduke sat on the edge of the end of the bed, feeling anxious and agitated at the same time. Boundaries were meant to be crossed, for they only existed in his caged mind. The door opened and Gaura entered, followed by the watchful eyes of the loyal warrior who'd brought her here. “Lord.” She bowed before him, hand over her heart. Quietly, Juraki closed the door behind her. Whatever happened in this chamber would stay there.  
“Step forward.” _Child_ , he thought, but dismissed the thought. Before him stood a young woman about to enter her blooming prime. Shyly, Gaura complied and approached him. When she tried to stop a couple of feet away from him, he beckoned her closer still until he could reach out for her hands to guide her closer until she stood right before him. He tilted his head back slightly to look at her blushing face.

“Are you scared of me?”, he asked and watched her almost wince at the mere accusation that came with his question. She shook her head too eagerly.  
“No, Lord.”  
“Good.” He pulled her closer and made her sit on his knee. Gaura did not resist his touch, did not dare to touch him back, either. “And will you serve your Lord, any way he asks of you?”  
“Yes, Lord,” she confirmed, not without a slight tremble to her voice. He gripped her tighter by the waist and pulled her against him.   
“Have you been with someone before?”, he asked and tilted up her chin with his free hand to make sure she would not dare look away. Her cheeks were red.  
“Yes, Lord.”  
Her answer brought him a sense of _dissatisfaction_. Of course, young people all fooled around, especially those whelps left to their own devices. It did not matter. Maybe it was even better that way. “Good,” he said, even though he had not made up his opinion just yet. With a gentle push, he had her get up from his knee and he got up as well. “Take off your clothes.” There was no harshness to his command, there was no need to go just that far. While she was left to her clothes, he turned away and reached for the port he'd meant to drink with Ignes.

When he turned around, two glasses in hand, Gaura already had complied with his request, stood by the bed bare as the Moonmother had made her, hands folded in front of her torso awkwardly. Her long orange hair covered her breasts modestly. “There is no need for shame,” he said calmly and handed her one glass. “Drink.”  
Gaura took the glass with both hands and took a careful sip – Maduke watched her face with scrutiny. Her tongue flicked over her upper lip. “It tastes nice.” She smiled awkwardly. The Lord chose to ignore her discomfort for his own comfort. He did not even take her maidenhood, he would just be another, and surely the best she'd ever had. This was a favour only few women could experience, after all, the vigor of a Lord.

Placing his glass aside (he had not even drank from it), he began undressing too and Gaura averted her gaze shamefully. Of course he must be another league than whatever yelping boy she'd had fumbled around with. He might as well consider her half a maiden – what was the touch of a young lad to the fire of a man, after all?  
Wordlessly, he took the half-finished glass from her and placed it aside. She could drink it later. For now... He pulled her closer and brushed aside long strands of ginger hair to expose her tender neck. It felt good to have another body pressed against his, and he pressed a kiss against her shoulder. She trembled underneath his gentle hands. Slowly, he stepped backwards towards the bed and pulled her with him. When he sat, he made her straddle him. He could feel her heart beating violently, pushing young blood through her veins. He could feel it right under her skin, so soft and bare and his to touch – or bruise, if he so desired.  
One arm remained wrapped around her to hold her in place while the other hand guided her hips closer to his half-erect manhood. He was still not quite _feeling_ it, and she was not helping. Was he not perfectly gentlemanly? She should be honoured, not barely able to hide her fright.

 Annoyed, he finally kissed her on the mouth, harder than he meant to, softer than he'd like to. He fondled her breast with one hand, tried to imagine he had someone else here in his lap. Someone eager, someone new, someone exciting, someone fun. His kisses stifled a whine when he pushed her down unto his cock and she tried to jerk away out of reflex, held in place by his arm. Her reaction almost caused him to lose what little lust he could muster up and he pulled away with a snarl. With his patience running thin, he flipped her over on her stomach and she barely had managed to get up on all four when he thrust back into her, hands firmly gripping her by the hips.

He'd had Garda like that often enough, when he did not want to see her face. Yes. He did not want to Gaura's face either. It was better for both of them if she just got to bite the pillows to muffle all sobs and whines. He felt empty. As long as he did not have to see her face, he could imagine anyone – and yet no fantasm he could conjure up could make him deaf to her. He felt empty, withering more and more with each thrust. With each groan and grunt he'd exhaled more of whatever might have been good in him. He made room for the monster that needed space to thrive. Shame, shame, shame, he fucked her and did not enjoy it. Cold, colder, coldest, he cared too much.

Shame, shame, shame, she cried and so did he.


	9. Trust; Approach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and they dont stop coming and they dont stop coming and they dont stop coming.   
> Yeah, I was bitten by the bug of creativity and I am just looking forward to finishing and there we go!  
> Btw, friendly reminder there is a noblesse discord, feel free to message me about that if you are interested in joining! :)  
> Last note: Yes I love characters quoting each other.

A father would never lay a finger on his daughter, after all. That thought had wormed its way into her thought even long after she had called it a day. Surely, Maduke was hardly decent – he wielded his power like a spiked club and she might do the same, had she the luxury of standing above so many loyal followers. The weak must serve the strong, one way or another, he ruled by this universal truth any sensible mind must agree with. Of course, a father and his daughter... _unorthodox_ , to say the least, though ultimately, none of his sexual escapades should matter if they distracted him from her. Other women could not contribute with skill and expertise and needed to pull their weight in other ways.

When Gaura came in for her surgery, she observed the girl with scrutiny. Normally, she carried herself with a bit more _pride_. Quiet, stubborn pride and determination. Oh, the girl looked quite shaken, even, and when their eyes met, Ignes knew all she needed to know. The look in her eyes spoke a language known to all women.

* * *

 All he'd tried to cure only had gotten worse. The weight on his chest felt heavier, the emptiness in his guts stung sharper, he breathed and the air in his lungs would turn foul and stale. He was choking on himself. Yesterday's tension still sat in his bones, pooled in his guts and swept his mind empty save for the anger. Was he angry with her, for she failed to excite him? Or was he maybe angry with himself, for he failed to finish anyway? Like a coward he'd pulled away, flaccid, listless, and told her to get her clothes and leave, done long before he was finished. Last night, he'd felt an exhaustion he'd never felt before. It scared him. Unable to maintain the erection, he'd pulled away like a coward and made her leave. He couldn't even look at her, and did not bear the thought who else she might tell about his shameful failure.  
Instead of being ravished by the Lord at peak performance, she's been mounted by a decrepit old man who would not look her in the eye when he lost his vigor.

The light down in the laboratories was too bright for his sensitive eyes and he felt a tension headache brewing up at the base of his skull. This was unbearable.  
“Ignes!” The scientist turned around, mildly confused. “What have you done?!” She, who haunted his fantasies, she, who had planted the thought of Gaura in his mind. She, this noble devil who played with him. Even now, she looked at him with large, innocent eyes as though she did not know what she was doing to him.  
“I don't understand -”, she started, but he cut her off by seizing her by the jaw. Roughly, he tilted her head upwards so she would have to meet his eyes. Like a hare frozen before the eagle, she stared at him and it fueled his anger.  
“What spell have you put on me, you witch?”, he growled, furious, breathless, tense, elated. Before she could try to defend herself, he pressed his mouth against hers, pulled her close against his chest. A small waist, a full bosom, like thousands of other women. Yet still, she haunted him, haunted him like he had not been haunted in a long time. For a few moments, Ignes did not resist his touch and, greedily, his hands wandered all over her.  
“Don't touch me!”, she hissed once he broke the furious kiss to turn to her neck instead. She pushed against his chest and he pushed back, pushed her unto the desk to trap her between its cold steel and his own body. If nothing else would set him free, then she must, she who made it all so much worse. Before he could reach out to pin her down by the wrists to keep her from the struggle, she struck at him and left a burning sensation on his left cheek. She'd actually dared to not only hit him, but leave scratches too! Seized by wild fury that only served to fuel his arousal, he struck back, a loud smack as his palm hit her cheek and she stumbled back with a choked cry.  
Before Ignes could recover from his slap, he seized her by the hand. Tears shot up in her eyes as tender bones gave in to the force of his grip and it gave him a grim sense of satisfaction. This must be what she looked like at her most beautiful, with tears in her eyes and her lower lip bloody, up against the wall and at his mercy. He pushed his thigh between her legs to keep her up and still kept the grip on her broken hand. He could hear her heart beating.

No. Not like this. He still needed her. With a rattled breath that almost came out as a groan, he leaned in to place another kiss against her mouth. Lasciviously, he lapped at the blood on her lower lip and wanted more. He still needed her. With a tremble, he pulled away and she sank against the wall. He breathed. He still needed her.

Without a word, he turned around sharply, leaving her alone. Soon enough, once he got rid of the previous Lord and received the power she would offer them... then... then he could break her spell and free himself from her ghost that kept on haunting him.

* * *

 By now, everyone had picked up on the tension in the castle – and tried to avoid it as best as possible. Still, Lunark could not stay away entirely. However, when she passed the Lord, a single glance at his face sufficed to let her know that any matter she might need to discuss with him should wait. Faint traces of scratches were discernible on his cheek and, paired with a tension that seemed to electrify the air around him, she could figure that there was only one person who could possibly put him into such a state of utter rage. It must boil cold straight under his skin and made her shudder. Woe upon whoever drew his ire in this moment.

Bowing her head, she waited for him to pass before she decided to take a detour. If she could not discuss current matters with the Lord, then surely investigating the roots of his mood might prove useful for her. Only one person could get away with this at the moment.

She found Ignes alone in the laboratory, sat next to the desk, her hand resting on the steely surface. Something was in the air, it poisoned the atmosphere of the room more than usual.  
“Come back later,” Ignes stated dully and merely spared her a brief glance. Normally, Ignes was quite eager to socialize with her. Though she might have doubted it at first, now she was quite certain she knew what happened. The look in her eyes spoke a language known to all women.

“Let me see your hand,” she said softly. Though the swelling and the bruising almost faded, it did not take a medic to see that she had not yet healed her bones correctly. Ignes frowned and meant to pull away at first, then she decided not to resist. Lunark had seen injuries like these often enough. Any good sparring session could end like that. The ashen-haired woman pulled a chair closer to Ignes so she could sit down too.

“I need to set your joints,” she warned, taking Ignes' hand with utmost care. Though there was nothing likable about Ignes, it would feel wrong to just leave her like that. The scientist had spoken out for her once and provided the Lord with a good alibi for her. She would repair this favour now – to have to set your own joints was a painful, most unpleasant affair.

Gently, she kept Ignes' hand in place. Thumb first. A sharp intake of breath from Ignes, but no further complaints. The index finger. If he even laid hand on his prized scientist... Was anyone safe, then? This thought troubled Lunark more than she would have thought at first. How much longer could she politely draw out her answer before she would have to reject the Lord openly and face his wrath in return? To give herself to a man who filled her with unease was out of the question. Maduke. If he truly stood for the best in the werewolf race, then maybe she was right and there would really be no man among her own people who could ever call her his own.

Her thoughts wandered back to the blond human as she popped Ignes' ring finger back into place.

“Do you do this often?”, Ignes asked dully.  
“... not as often as I used to,” Lunark replied. And the last one. Though it might still hurt and feel sensitive for a while, at least it would finish healing correctly now. “Training can get rough.”  
The noble nodded understandingly. Awkwardly, she looked away, her cheeks were covered in a soft shade of bashful pink.  
“... thank you.” Her gratitude sounded genuine – apprehensive and uncomfortable but still genuine nonetheless. It made Lunark smile.  
“No need to thank me. Us girls must look out for each other, don't you agree?”  
To hear her own words bounced back at her made Ignes smile awkwardly. Lunark got up from the chair. There was no reason to stay, her curiosity was satisfied.  
“... right … You know... I understand you don't want to accept modification. I heard from that already. But whatever you may think about what is happening here... there is no need for bad blood, right?”  
Surprised, the 5th Elder stopped in her tracks and turned around.  
“... No...?”  
“... Good.” Ignes smiled wearily. “It'd be nice to have someone to chat to. I'm getting a new laboratory, further away from here. You should come and visit me sometime.”  
“... I will keep that in mind. Thank you for your invitation.”

 _But she is chatty. She might end up slipping._ Her own words ran through her mind as she left the laboratory. The opportunity she and Kentas needed to find out what was hidden in the inner laboratories where almost no one but Ignes had access to. This was exactly what they needed. While there were ways past most security measures for two influential warriors like them, the noble scientist was the greatest obstacle between them and the answers to their suspicions. Another laboratory... There was an opening. A time when they were guaranteed not to run into Ignes while exploring the lowest floors.

The Moonmother must be watching over their endeavors to find the truth.


	10. Price; Prize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to merge two chapters into one to wrap this up with two more chapters + epilogue :)

Men are disgusting. This was a truth she always had known, in her heart. So far, none ever did something to prove her wrong. Maduke only had confirmed that knowledge once more, his hands all over her had left burning traces in her mind. In a better world, she could make him pay. In a better world, she would not need to fear the wrath of the Werewolves as well as the Noblesse and the nobles. In a better world, there would be a place where she could go, and where no one would ever lay a finger on her again. This world was not good, though. In this world, she might even be expected to apologize for daring to raise a hand against him in her own defense. What a sick, twisted world...

The Lord's presence made a cold shiver run down her spine, she knew of his arrival long before he stepped foot through the door. “Ignes. Come with me.” He looked at her as though nothing had happened, the shameless pig, cold, slick, as though his raging temper had gone all of a sudden. Though she would rather launch herself into the sun than be anywhere near him, she complied with a soft nod. With his hands behind his back, he led the way, out of the castle and north. He did not say a single word for so long, Ignes started to wonder whether this was a game he was playing with her. Would she yield first and start talking by herself? She would not give him that satisfaction.

“Ignes...” His steps slowed. They were near the waystone where they had turned off towards the mountains. This time, he turned left, though, and Ignes followed him, staring at his back attentively. Another couple of minutes passed before he stopped and turned around abruptly. The corners of his mouth twitched in irritation, she could not read the expression on his face.  
“I meant to _apologize_ for my outburst of temper.” He watched her reaction as though he was _looking_ for something, nerves fraying at the edges. She could tell. Maduke cleared his throat. “How is your hand?”  
“Bones heal.”  
“... Good.” He turned around sharply, resuming their way at a brisk pace. Ignes followed him with wide strides to keep up. That was... both the lamest and most unexpected apology she ever received. Another couple of minutes passed before she found it in her to force out a 'I accept your apology'. He almost flinched when she said that and Ignes could swear his steps grew even more hurried.

The new building was unseeming from the exterior – which meant that the vast majority of it was built underground. The new research lab she was promised.  
“I hope you will take good care of it,” he stated dryly as they passed the door (she caught a glance at the pin code he entered, but could only caught half the digits) and down a flight of stairs, deep underground. “I have another project for you to work on,” he started. “Even more important than the Bloodstones and _The Black Widow._ ”  
Oh. This could not be good – he was already quite focused on what he called the Black Widow, the ginger-haired werewolf woman meant to subdue Muzaka... as well as the bloodstones, for he was not a patient man, apparently. And now even more? Though she hated to admit it, Ignes felt almost giddy at the thought of an even bigger challenge... though it must be even more gruesome than the other things he had her do.

And so she met that which cannot be.

* * *

 What he did with others was none of her business. When he called for Mirai, a woman she once loved dearly, that was none of her business anymore. When he called for Urne too, that was none of her business. When he punished others for treason, that was hardly her business, this was his right and duty as Lord. When he tried to force himself on the noble scientist he accepted with open arms, that was none of her business. Over the past weeks, however, Lunark realized: not much made her different from them. Maybe that's why she felt so deeply uncomfortable in Maduke's presence now. As usual, he poured them a glass and offered her a cigar. Politely, she refused it, and he did not light one either. Being near him felt like jumping up into the storm, electrified air, tension weighing down on everyone who got too close to him. He was ready to burst and she knew she did not want to be there when it happened – though no one could tell when his pent-up negative energy would discharge into a caustic miasma of death and doom.

“You and Kentas both still refuse enhancement,” Maduke stated slowly, watching her with the same predatory intensity as always.  
“... Those are the old ways,” she said, his stare felt as though it was going to burn holes into her skin. “... which we adhere to.”  
“The old ways, to ways of that which was. I never took you for someone to reject progress, Lunark. No. I even took you for a sensible woman.”  
“I do not trust Ignes – or the things she does. Don't you feel it, Lord?! Everyone is on edge. The atmosphere is changing.”  
“The world is changing!” He raised his voice just slightly, yet his interjection cut sharply. “The old world is dying, getting left behind. Either you go with the flow of time, or you sink into irrelevance, until not even the trees remember your name.”  
Lunark watched him attentively, feeling increasingly tense herself. How could she possibly voice her concern without being framed as a traitor? She swallows hard.

“Then that is a price I am willing to pay,” she said eventually, on the edge of her seat, ready to be sent away. Maduke reined himself in, however, and walked over to the window. With one hand, he moved aside the heavy velvet curtain to look outside. A storm was brewing up.

“You still have not given my offer any thought?”, he asked and was met with silence. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain calm.  
“You may go now, Lunark.”

* * *

 A monster. The monster had created another monster. Ignes' heart felt heavy as she thought of how many lives must have gone into the creature in the vast tank before her. Humans have tried it. She knew that Lagus, too, had put some research into that direction before abandoning the notion of something like that ever being viable. What was a creature without a soul? A lifeless mass of flesh and bone. Nothing more. Even though this beast's energy resembled more that of an animal than a sentient being... It _had_ one.

The werewolves had created life, despite all that she always believed to be true, and regardless of how many thousands of lives this must have taken over the past centuries. Of course, with the high regenerative powers of the werewolves... Slowly, she stepped closer and placed a hand against the cool glass of the tank. Something like this creature... could not exist. That which should not be... and when it rose, the age of the titans would come.

Ignes snorted.

“I guess I will name you Titan, then.... well. Titan. Looks like I finally have a friend here.”

* * *

 He could not stay away. He could not, even though he told himself he was not going to. His present weighed like a thousand stones in his pocket. Though she had, after a long silence, accepted his apology, he knew the insidious nature of women and their tendencies to hold a grudge long past the moment they claimed forgiveness. In these late stages of his plans, he could not let a slip of temper compromise their work. More importantly, however, the taste of her mouth still burned on his tongue, he could almost feel that lithe, toned body beneath his hands. He must possess her. That emptiness was crunching him, eating him alive. The two women he desired the most could not both refuse to give themselves to him, this was an injustice and a slight to his pride that almost made him want to see both of them bleeding out slowly, as slowly as his own soul bled out.

Ignes was bent over the corpse of a werewolf, he felt no warmth from it. She did not look up from the ribcage she'd cut open. He could feel her tension through the shift in her aura, her energy between him and her. It felt as though he could reach out and hit a physical barrier. 

“You do not think ill of me now, do you?”  
Ignes finally looked up, her brows furrowed slightly. A quizzical look that made him feel like she was trying to discern what he even meant with his question.  
“You are a remarkable woman. Let us not let the slip of a moment stand between us. My … furious passion for you is sincere. My … slip of control … was but a sign of that, and no malicious intent.” He approached her and reached for the hand that was not holding a knife. He wanted to kiss her, but he should not. If one would not be the queen he deserved... a pure-blooded noble... With some work on her feisty mannerisms, she might do. “Please accept my declaration of feelings and intent.” His tongue felt like wood, each word a stone to regurgitate. Women and their caprice. He must possess her, though a trophy won in earnest was a sweeter victory than one stolen by force.

“How could I?”, she asked, taking a step back and this time, he did not keep her from pulling her hand away, his fingers curled up into a fist as her hand was replaced by cold emptiness. “You are the one who has me working on your projects without halt.”  
“Cynical! You reject me in favour of work?”  
“What else am I to do?”

She'd stepped away, a dead body was between him and for the first time in his life, the presence of a corpse was a bother to him. He did not want it between them.  
“Give yourself to me.”  
“As long as the Noblesse is still out there, out for my blood, how can I give myself to _anyone_?”  
“We will vanquish him. The previous Lord. Anyone.”  
He took a step to the right, she took one to the left. The table was still between them.  
“Tomorrow is far away.”  
“And then, will you give yourself to me?” He finally reached her and seized her by the chin before she could evade him again, tilted her head up to force her to look at him. “When their blood seeps into the soil, will you be mine?”  
He could not read the expression in her eyes. Slowly, his thumb traced her lower lip – and as though something inside of her had clicked, she nodded just slightly. With a pleased smile, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead and almost exhaled in relief against her skin. He could not tell whether his rage might have known limits had she, like Lunark, brazenly rejected his sincere approach.

“Turn around.” He let go of her chin and placed a hand on her shoulder to force her to turn around. With his other hand, he pulled his present out of the pocket of his coat. “Accept this token of my interest... and your promise... then...” A collar, black leather adorned with a string of pearls along its middle. Like a crown jewel, a red polished stone sat in its heart, the centerpiece of the necklace. One of the smaller bloodstones from Lagus' collection. He placed it around her neck and closed it tightly by the small golden chain. Smug. Firm. It cut slightly into her skin, he could see it well and clear. Good. He ran his index finger over the small pearls and moved on to the single tooth attached to the necklace by a golden ring. Maduke leaned forward, bringing his mouth close to her ear. “The tooth of a Great White,” he whispered and he knew that the meaning would not be lost on her. Though he had not seen it with his own eyes before, he knew that no animal represented her clan more than the shark... her father, most importantly. The 4th Elder who would probably return from the depths of hell to put himself between his precious daughter and his old rival.

“... I will not distract you from your work, then...” 

* * *

Ignes retched, the collar pressed against her throat and made her want to rip it off with violent force. Smash it against the wall and crush the bloodstone under her heal. Instead, he undid the clasp at the back of her neck. The shark tooth felt like it was burning against her skin in mockery. That disgusting... Who could tell what he would have done, had she chosen to reject him? Oh, she would have loved to spit in his face for even thinking she might wish to give herself to him! The way he looked at her made her feel as though it was more than just her body he wanted. A frightening thought – to give one's body.. what was it but flesh pounding into flesh? Maduke was greedy. She could see it in his eyes: her body would be but the start of all the things he would ask of her. More and more. But for now... for now, she needed to take care of bigger problems.

It would not let her go, though. His present weighed like a thousand stones in her pocket. Fright turned into anger. Anger into hatred. Father... if her father knew she had accepted such an outrageous gift! But oh... she only wanted to live... And without thinking, she grabbed Lagus' ceremonial dagger and slashed the skin of her forearm, ripped through the white fabric of her lab coat. Frayed at the edges, turning red. Red. Red. Red like the blood of the Noblesse. Red like the fire of her anger. Red like Maduke's lust. Red like the eyes of her father.

Red like the bloodstones.

Blood dripped unto the bloodstones she had prepared earlier today with such great care. Precious, rich, pure noble blood dripped on the bloodstones meant for the Lord of Werewolves.

If he insisted on giving her a gift.... She would give him one too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who maybe read "On Bloodstones" might already know the meaning of her spilling her blood over the bloodstones she will give Maduke :)


	11. Rejection; Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this overly fast? Maybe. Do I just want to be done? Absolutely. Are you ready for "Love" ? I know I am not :)  
> Also, a huge shoutout to whoever is still on board!

Careful observations had revealed that typically, Ignes spent about six to seven hours at the other facility, whenever she went there. The staff in the main laboratories was reduced during night hours, Kentas had found out. The answers to their questions must lie in the inner laboratory, where no one but Ignes and Maduke could access. This is where their darkest secrets must be hidden. The noble had left the castle about half an hour ago – she must intend to spend the night over there.  
“Are you ready?”, Lunark asked softly as they approached the heavy metal doors to the inner labs. Slowly, Kentas nodded, clutching the keycard in his sweaty hand. To steal from the Lord was as risky as risky gets, she wagered. However, using his keycard to access locked off areas seemed like the only way for now... the least suspicious. People lost things all the time, and then they showed up somewhere else, all on their own. With some luck, Kentas might even return it to its place before the Lord even noticed it was gone.

Silently, they passed the security door. In the dark of the night, they would bring to light what Maduke had tried to hide for centuries.

* * *

 Mistake. It was all a mistake. To learn that Garda was still alive... to find out that their people have been used to a greater extent than they had anticipated at first... Was it worth it? Was it worth the ire of the Lord? Like a proud, honorable fool, Kentas had confronted the Lord. There was no way back, though Lunark should have guessed that sooner or later, they would reach the point of no return. This awful tension in the air could not grow thicker and thicker with each passing day without exploding at last. When and where, she could not tell – she only hoped she would not be around to bear witness.

A quick glance at her wrist watch. She has been waiting here for half an hour already and did not dare leaving. The situation was sufficiently delicate already. No warrior apart from her and Kentas had rejected the modifications. The power. Did it not automatically make her a suspect as well? Especially given the fact that he has been suspecting her for a while, clearly. However, with his current moods... Lunark would no longer put it past him to use any grounds of accusation as a convenient excuse. She was respected, yes, though that respect was fading. She held influence in the Union, yes, though only a fool would assume her loyalties were not primarily tied with her Lord. Whatever the Lord gave, he could take away.

 After another fifteen minutes, he finally graced her with his presence. Once more, he stepped to the window and moved aside the curtain with his hand. What did he see? What did he watch from here? Lunark had long noticed that this seemed to be his favourite spot in the room. She wished she could reprimand him for making her wait, wished she could tell him to just _speak his mind_ already. He had called her for a reason and she wanted to hear it.

“I know that you are in league with Kentas. Don't even try denying it. It's clear as daylight.” Heavy silence settled after he'd voiced his accusations. What was she supposed to answer? How could she defend herself against a vague premonition? What could she possibly say if in his heart, he already convinced himself of her guilt?  
“Your silence speaks volumes,” he stated dryly and turned his attention towards her. He smiled, and his smile said 'I won'. “... of course, a Lord would never let harm come to his Lady... Choose carefully, Lunark. The moment I have proof of your guilt in my hands … that will be the moment my patience and willingness to oversee your flaws will reach its end.”

Lunark swallowed hard and refused to break eye contact. He was trying to intimidate her. He wanted to scare her into submission, make her give in before he decided he could come forward with his accusations and convince the other werewolves that she was guilty of whatever crime he wished to accuse her of – and she was. She was guilty. Guilty of what he might as well call Thoughtcrime. Slowly, she rose from the armchair.

“I am innocent. No matter whether you believe in my innocence or not, _Lord_.” Was she not a liar? She had broken into that lab with Kentas... however... this was a confession he would not have from her.  
“Your stubbornness will be the end of you,” he spat, teeth grit together. This was his true face. She could almost feel his anger, as though she would get burned by its heat if she were to reach out and touch him.  
“Then so be it!” At last, she felt like herself. For how long had his predatory gaze followed her? She had followed his orders, had kept her mouth shut about anything he did or said, no matter how questionable it seemed at times – but now, now she felt free. It felt good. “And I reject your offer,” she said and it felt good.   
“You are a fool.”  
"Then so I may be. My answer is still no.”

His eyelid twitched in irritation, brows furrowed in anger.  
“The Moonmother may have mercy on you the day you slip, for I will not.”  
“The Moonmother will judge me fair and sincere.” He, the Lord, may be convinced of her guilt – but in this world, there were powers greater than the Lord. Lunark wanted to believe in them, and believe that somewhere out there justice could be found.

“Get out of my sight,” he spat with disgust and Lunark complied all too gladly.

* * *

 Everybody wanted something from her. The werewolves who came to her to ask for power and then spat on her when she was done. Maduke, always breathing down her neck. Most of the times, metaphorically. Sometimes literally. His voracious, greedy desire was of a violent insistence that was unknown to her before. Between the red-haired woman, the titan and the werewolves... and those blasted experiments!

With a sharp cry of frustration, she hurled her knife in the direction of the endlessly taunting chimera. When the blade dug into the wall near his face, he shut up for a moment. “SHUT UP!” In a fit of rage, she threw the microscope on her desk at him. “SHUT UP!”, she yelled even though neither of her new prisoners had said anything and threw a folder with documents in the direction of the warrior, for good measure. Before she could throw more objects, there was plenty of equipment within reach, her body jerked forward. She retched, tears stung in her eyes. Ignes drew a rattling breath, one hand covered her mouth, the other clutched the desk. Breathe. She retched again, though there was nothing for her body to expel.

With trembling fingers, she wiped at her mouth, then at her eyes and her cheeks. Keep calm. Shut up. Keep it together. Losing her nerves would do nothing now. Without bothering about anything she had thrown or disheveled, she retreated into the adjacent laboratory. Shaking. The work must be finished, for the end of Maduke would be hers too.

* * *

  Hatred. He felt hatred and a tension that could not be relieved by mere pleasure. It boiled in his veins, scorched his skin, swept his mind into the black void below. He hated them. He hated them all. He hated Muzaka for appearing again, hated the other Elders for questioning him, hated Lunark for rejecting him, hated the warriors for their sheepish mindlessness. He hated Gaura for existing, hated Garda for having belonged to Muzaka ones, he hated the werewolves for their whispers of treason, he hated everyone. Hate, hate, hate. It pounded in his head, against his ribcage, pulsed through his vein, throbbed in his manhood, ached in his chest, he wanted to claw it open and rip out those stones of power Ignes had finally given him.

Oh, how much he hated her. She danced through his mind, ethereal, he could not grasp her. Soon enough, he would have it all. Soon enough, there would be no more traitors. Only him and Ignes... and when they killed the world... when they bathed in floods of blood... When bloodstones grew on each tree and blood filled each river, when each bird fell from the skies and each wolf would go rabid... When there was no kind soul left in this world, they would be Adam and Eve, but no Abel and Cain would spring from her womb.

He would choke the life from her and never be tempted into sin... or maybe Adam and Eve would kill God and rule the Garden of Paradise. 

Forever. 


	12. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. I am sorry.

Everything fell into place – one stone set the next in motion and now they had passed the point of no return. Lunark may scream ' _innocence_ ' but her actions sang ' _treason_ '. Just as he'd expected, fear had driven that treacherous bitch away from their shores. Though Kentas had tried to pin it all on her... Lunark was smarter than assuming that his apology for his suspicions could ever be sincere. The other warriors might be fooled easily... but he was their Lord for a reason. Regardless of whether Lunark had anything to do with the break-in or Kentas' attempts at meeting the Lord... now that she left, there was no more reason to doubt her guilt. Not even the most idealistic among their warriors could question his decision now.

The end was near, and the beginning of something better, something greater.

He'd warned her yesterday already – that soon the time would come. If he were sensible, he would not be on his way down beneath the castle. Nothing good could come from that – he might lose control. He might slip. Insanity was but a narrow bridge between the shores of reason and instinct. No. He had a good reason to be here.

“Ignes.” The scientist turned around, away from the traitor Kentas and a man he was unfamiliar with. It did not matter. Nothing mattered now, anymore. Almost. Almost.  
“Yes, Lord?”, she said after a moment of uncertain silence. A stethoscope hung around her neck instead of the necklace.  
“I need the titan ready by three days' time.”  
“.... Pardon?” She blinked and stepped closer. “I told you that it's not working yet. It would run for a day or so before collapsing as it is!”  
“And _**I**_ tell you that I don't care. Muzaka will be here soon.”  
“I need more time! I cannot -”  
“ **THEN MAKE DO!** ” His outburst shut her up right on the spot, and for a moment, he could see fear flickering up in those crimson eyes. Not even the two traitors dared to say a word. With a flick of his wrist, he gestured for her to follow him into the adjacent examination room. There was no need for prying eyes.

“Lunark has left the island to get Muzaka. And when she comes back... she will bring him right to us. And we will end them both, them, and any other traitor on this island.”  
“What? I told you, it's not ready! Even if I managed to wake him up, he would be uncontrollable!”  
“If I am going down, you're going down with me!”, he growled. Her neck was on the line as much as his, and she better not forget about that.  
“Maduke, you need to intercept her. I -” Before she could finish the sentence, he interrupted her with a strike of his palm at her face.  
“ **Don't you** _ **EVER**_ **tell me what to do!** ” That attitude. She was mocking him. They were all mocking him. Before she had recovered from her bafflement, he pulled her in against his chest. She needed him. He was powerful, powerful enough to protect her from her enemies. No one but him would hold their hand over her head. She struggled against him, though this time he did not let her even try to strike at him. He wrestled her down to the floor, kept her wrists in a tight grip. She had given him the power, now she would give him herself – in the flames of his urgent desires, promises meant nothing. In this game of power, she had the short end of the stick and was left with nothing.

“Stop!” She struggled against his grip as he kept her wrists pinned against the floor with one hand. Hungrily, he pressed his mouth against her neck, more a bite than a kiss.  
“Don't fight me,” he growled breathlessly, tearing at her top with his free hand. Black fabric ripped, exposed shapely, perky breasts.  
“We had an agreement!”, she gasped as his sharpened teeth scrapped over the sensitive skin of her nipples and it lured a chuckle from him.  
“Did we?” He was on fire. Might makes right. He moved up higher against her body, threw one leg over hers to limit her kicking. Might makes right. With one hand, he undid the buttons of his coat. Might makes right. He released his control over her hands to remove his coat and toss it aside. Might makes right. She tried to strike at him, he struck back. Might makes right. Whatever the Lord gave, he could take. Whatever he promised he could deny.

“ **You** _**BASTARD**_!”, she yelled, though her voice derailed into a sharp, high-pitched shriek. He could see it in her eyes. The doe and the wolf, he could move in for the kill. There was no one but him. She was alone. He felt so alive when he tore her trousers. Gaura might be a sheep that came to the slaughter willingly, Garda might be a wounded animal left for death, Urne and Mirai might be whelps that only played – but Ignes, the golden doe in the meadows of rotten, blood-red grass. The golden doe, he needed her head, wanted her skin on his. Eventually.

“... I wanted you... for so long...”, he growled against her neck, struggling to undo his belt with one hand while keeping her hands above her head with his other. “... Let me give you the honour... of me being your first...”

  Her sharp cry drowned out his own growl of laboured pleasure as he forced himself on her. Deeper, deeper, where he would no longer be cold. Brusquely, he forced her legs apart wider, _give yourself to me_. Maybe the tight heat around him would make him lose his mind and he would not mind.  “Look at me.” He seized her throat and she wrapped her hands around his wrist, trying to free herself from his grip. “Relax.” She was struggling. Tense. Almost like Ga- ... He grabbed her leg and pushed it up to help him force himself in deeper. Never had she been more beautiful than now, with ripped clothes and tears in her eyes. Her breath came out hitched as he started moving.  
“I know you want it too,” he groaned, leaning forward. He wanted to be closer. She could call forth the Leviathan, could release her aura to fight him off – but she did not. Finally, she did not talk.

This was the only way this could ever go. If only... He groaned. They were all the same. First, they struggled. Then, they got used to it. And sometimes, they were dripping by the end of it. Her grip on his arm had weakened, her eyes were clenched shut. Didn't stop the tears from rolling. She was beautiful when she cried.  
“Look at me.” He squeezed her throat tighter when she did not obey immediately. He smiled when she finally opened her eyes. Deep inside of her was where he belonged. “... you are mine. Forever,” he said softly before pulling out and he was accompanied by a delicious pained whine from her.

Roughly, he flipped her over on her stomach and didn't even wait for her to get up on all fours before forcing himself upon her again. Her sharp cry sounded like music in his ears in this moment. In this moment, he loved how much he hated her – and hated how much he loved her. He deserved each of her cries. Overwhelmed by a sudden sentiment he hardly knew, he seized her by the throat once more and pulled her head back enough to press his mouth against hers. Hungry. Voracious. Like the beast that howled inside of him – and a beast she shall have inside her too. This passion that tormented him, this torturous longing... Now was her time to pay for that.  
Fabric ripped and frayed at its edges as power surged through his veins. Nails turned into claws, teeth into fangs. Her cries turned into screams, a beautiful cacophony of her getting a taste of what it meant to be loved by a Lord.  
She felt so tight around him that it almost hurt even him – and he relished in that, too. “At last...” He growled near her ear. His claws scrapped open the skin of her neck and those drops of blood on her white skin were more beautiful than any necklace. “... you're ...” She retched, squirming, struggling, as he made sure to push himself into her all the way in, base of his cock starting to swell. It's been weeks since he last had gone all the way. Something too intimate for playthings like the twins. “.... _mine_.”  
She knew no mercy, and neither did he.

 For the first time in forever, he felt alive, truly alive. Savage as creation intended the werewolves to be at heart, he howled out, and muffled the sound of his own ecstasy by biting down on her neck instead and sharp canines pierces skin and flesh and he'd tear out a piece of her gladly. Her blood in his mouth drove him over the edge and he grabbed her tighter as his whole body was shaken by the spasms of a powerful climax to this play of cat and mouse they have played so diligently for the past weeks. Breathlessly, he let his forehead sink against her bloodied neck. Did she like the feeling of his hot seed filling her womb? Did she feel elated, knowing she had kissed the hand that fed her with her compliance? 

He released his grip of her neck and ran his fingers along her arm, to her hand. Her fingers had dug through the tiles of the floor, broken nails, blood, he entwined their fingers. She should not be crying, had no reason to. For a moment, he even almost felt angry with her. But she would not take this blissful moment from him. Minutes passed and he wished her soft sobs would not break the silence he craved. Finally, when he'd regained a fully human form, he was able to pull out of her and he missed the warmth immediately.

Quietly, he watched his seed, mixed with drops of her blood, run down her thigh. He would cherish this image forever. Slowly, he ran his hand over her rear and gave it a small, half-hearted smack before getting up.

Why did he feel so empty now?

“... You... well done.” He should not have said anything at all. There was nothing to say. And so he said nothing when he buckled up his belt and fixed his appearance best as he could. The coat hid the torn shirt underneath well enough.

He had so much to say and he left her alone and kept all of his words to himself.


	13. Epilogue

“Tell him I will answer his summons. There is no need to wait here.” Ignes set down the hairbrush and looked up into the mirror and into the eyes of the werewolf who waited by the door with impatience. The Lord's summon was an ill omen these days and the idea of facing him again made her feel sick to the stomach. It was alright. “I know the way.” Ignes waved her hand dismissively and, after a few moments, the warrior complied and closed the door again. It was alright. If Muzaka was on his way... Chaos would errupt... and in that chaos, who could tell what happens to an outsider? She could leave, forever. The Noblesse be damned, in this moment, she would rather run than expose herself to the Lord's touch again.

Nothing could wash her clean of the shame and the humiliation. The Seven Seas would not be enough to make her feel clean again. Impure. That's what she was, forever. Tainted by his hands and his mouth and his – but none of that mattered now. Like a scared little girl, she'd been unable to defend herself. Once more, she found herself at the mercy of others. Was she not a different person now? She wielded the power of a clan leader now. No one should be able to lay a finger on her – but in that moment, down on the floor like a beaten animal, she had felt like a little girl again. Helpless, lost, with nowhere to go.

Slowly, she glanced at the necklace on the vanity table and the lipstick next to it. 'Borrowed' from one of the lab assistants. A beautiful, rich red that reminded her of cherries and blood. She rarely ever used lipstick – but now, in a fit of emptiness, she reached out for the metallic stick. It smelled like vanilla. Carefully, she traced her lower lip, then her upper lip. A nice, red mouth. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Tomorrow, she would be gone. Ignes took a deep breath before putting on the necklace. It still felt too tight. Did he like the image of collaring her? Surely he must. Let him think he won, she did not care anymore. Surely it would cause him great joy to see her like that, like a slave collared for her master. Good. Let the sting of finding that she was gone after the victory dig even deeper, then.

Maduke awaited her in his reception room, stood by the window as always. What did he see there? Juraki, ever the loyal guard to his Lord, gently closed the door behind her. For a good minute, Maduke did not acknowledge her presence at all and she was not sure whether to sit or not. And so she just stood, waiting.

“... “ A question lingered on his mind and he did not know whether he wanted to look her in the eye or not. Did he want to see her face when he received a truth or a lie? He knew the answer, and a sick, masochistic part of him wanted to hear it out loud. It was not meant to go like that. Taking her had felt good, even down on the floor like an animal, but the knowledge that it could have felt _better_ was eating him up now. It was no good: he would need to face her. Reluctantly, he turned around and was met with the sight of red. Crimson eyes, crimson mouth, crimson bloodstone at the heart of the collar. He never had any particular feelings about the color red, but seeing it on her like that, black, white and red, made him like red all of a sudden.

He took seat on his armchair and let his eyes wander over her body once more before beckoning her closer. With empty eyes, she obeyed his invitation and allowed him to pull her in against his knee. The other armchair, where Lunark would usually sit, was too far away. He wrapped one arm around her waist firmly and let the other hand rest on her thigh. Her steely gaze made him think of a doll. Why did he feel empty? The vulgar desire, this ardent flame, has been replaced with something solemn, something terrifying. He felt empty and wished he could devour her here and there, and maybe this would fill the void.

“Do you hate me?”, he asked softly and watched her think.  
“... Yes. But there are others I hate more. Others, whose heads you promised me.”  
He leaned his forehead against her, let his head sit on a soft, warm bosom that held not an ounce of love for him.

She made no move to pull away – and for a few moments, he savored this feeling that felt like it might mend the world. If only... He shifted to place his lips against her neck. 

“You might hate me now... but one day...” He placed another kiss against the soft, tender skin. “... you will love me.” He did not want to see that lipstick smeared, and contended himself with her earlobe instead. “... until you break... until you yield...”

Ignes brought up a hand against his chest.

"Nothing you could ever do to me could possibly hurt as much as what _he_ did."  
“But I will try.”

 Ignes laughed – and so did he. They laughed. Helpless. Hopeless. Honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to anyone who read all the way up to here! This fic was... quite something, to put it like that. Remember, feedback etc is always extremely welcome, even though the story is now finished now.  
> I will soon start writing a follow-up fic to this one that will essentially... retell Noblesse starting from the werewolf invasion arc so... stay peeled, in case you did not have enough of the monster that is Maduke.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
